#I want to be done with my first draft in the next few days

[sunnie-angel]

The Ghost of You: Update

so based on the poll i did last week, it seems like people want me to upload the unfinished second chapter of the ghost of you. it's a pretty rough draft and it's not my proudest work, but i've been fighting with this update for so long that at this point i'd rather tentatively mark this fic as done than keep fighting it until i hate it. the chapter is posted below the cut as requested and at some point in the future i may revisit this fic, but this is all there is going to be for now. i'm sorry to anyone that was looking forward to a more satisfying ending, but i'd like to keep my fond memories of this fic.

If this were one of Ms. Einarsdottir’s romantic fairytales, your handsome prince would have come back to you the very same night and begged you to explain. If this were a fairytale, you would have told him all about your ghostly visions and tearfully asked him to forgive you for not sharing this with him sooner. If this was a fairytale, he’d say there was nothing to forgive, you’d fall into his arms for a kiss and the two of you would live happily ever after. This is not a fairytale.

You call in sick that first aching morning, painfully aware that you’re leaving your friends and co-workers in a tight spot but being brutally honest with yourself, you know that you’ll make mistakes and at the hospital, mistakes cost lives. The lingering weight of Matty’s life, cut too short too soon, already hangs on your conscience. You won’t add another to it, won’t create more heartache in the world. So instead you spend the day sitting on that same blasted couch staring numbly into the distance.  The mug wrapped in your hands grows cold and yet you don’t notice enough to care. Slowly as the hours stretch on the quality of the light changes as the sun travels high overhead of a city that won’t conveniently pause itself for your fractured heart. Notifications cause your phone to vibrate and buzz intermittently. You don’t check who it is until it’s dark out and you finally move from your statue-like position to turn on some lights. 

A few of your work friends from the hospital have sent you get well soon messages. There’s a few missed calls from Steph, but you dismiss the notifications with a flick of your finger across the screen. You’re in no mood for re-hashing the hurt that hangs like a shroud over the apartment, wouldn’t even know where to begin to find the words. 

There’s some leftover soup in the fridge and you heat it up on the stove. It’s as you’re dumping rice noodles into the pot that the smell of it really hits you. You’d made the soup noodles the night before, something quick and easy that even in his distracted state you’d known that Jason would devour. Your face is now oddly wet. It’s over stirring a pot that the first tears start to fall, anger and frustration mingling with numbness and a bone deep sadness. This was not the way things were meant to be. There was supposed to be laughter and joy in the apartment, shared sorrows halved, and a ring on your finger in a few months, a promise of forever. The rooms are cold and empty now, echoing with their silence. 

Jason doesn’t come home that night, or the next. It takes a full week of dragging yourself out of your lonely bed, staring unfeelingly into the bathroom mirror at your dark circles as you pull back your hair to get ready for work, of dodging questions about your silences and dark moods and fending off well-meaning invitations from coworkers for coffee, that you realize that Jason may not be coming back. That despite all your years together, shared moments and shared secrets, this one last truth might be what breaks you apart. That thought hurts, in ways you hadn’t considered before. 

It takes another week to wrap your head around that possibility. Another week of missed calls and texts from Steph and Dick, a DM from Tim, but nothing from Jason himself. His clothes are still in the closet and his collection of recipe cards from Alfred still sit on the kitchen counter. The bottle of cedar scented body wash taunts you in the shower the same way your single set of keys by the front door does. His presence haunts every room of your apartment more effectively than any ghost you’ve ever encountered. 

It is Ms. Einarsdottir with her fairytale romances that begins to pull you together again. She listens as you stumble through your story, a copy of Jane Eyre in your lap as a cover for the tears that occasionally escape you. In a quiet corner of the Gotham library, you begin to sort through just how deeply his reaction has hurt you to the only person that really knows the whole story. 

“Oh dearie, you really have been through it, haven’t you?” She clucks. “He seemed like such a nice boy too. He made you happy once, very happy I think.” She strokes your hair as best she can for a person without a physical body. “But he’s hurt you quite badly now. There may come a day when he apologizes, and Lord only knows he’ll need to spend ages making it up to you, but dear you can’t live waiting for him to make that decision.” 

“I know that. And I know that he’s hurt me. But I also know that he’s hurting too. I can’t get the image of his face, how devastated he looked, out of my head.” Your voice shakes, thick with choked back emotion. “I’ve got all this love for him still and it’s sitting like a lump of coal in my chest.”

“Dearie,” Ms. Einarsdottir says, leveling you with her gaze, “your love for that boy might never change. But right now, you need to have more love for yourself. Right now he’s hurtin’ over a what-if that the two of us know isn’t true. He’s hurt you–” she raises her voice before you can interrupt, “and that’s a fact. If he can’t figure out how to handle his hurt, if he isn’t capable of loving you for every last thing that you can do, then he was never the one for you. No matter how much you still care about  him.” Her words land heavy in the relative silence of the library, bitter in the way that the most effective medicines are. You swallow heavily, and continue to stare at the book in your lap unseeingly. 

“Now it sounds like there’s a little boy out there that needs your help. From the both of you. Let doing the right thing get your mind off of other things. And if that boy can’t get himself to accept your help out of fear, then you’ll know where you stand and I will know whether or not I need to start putting the fear of God into that boy.”

You smile weakly at her attempt at sternness, the deeply etched smile lines of her face so incongruous with her words. Thanking her, you make your way out of the library mulling over her words. She’s not wrong, that Matty needs help, help only you can give him. The only sticking point would be if you can make yourself reach out to Jason, if he’d even listen to you. 

It takes a few more days for you to come to a decision, and even then it is less of a conscious thought than a half-cocked choice that comes about because of how desperate you are for caffeine. Buying a cup of coffee, you drop your change, coins rolling every which way. One of them comes to a stop on the cobbled stone right as Matty dies again. His fingers still look so fragile scrabbling in the dirt, you think. Matty’s still there, trapped in the courtyard with the only good coffee stand in all of Gotham General Hospital. You can’t ignore the fact that he’s there anymore than you could the first time. He dies three times while you wait in line for your coffee, your already weary heart buckling under the strain of his terror. It makes you angry at yourself for how long you’ve left him there like this, too distracted by something as inconsequential as a broken heart when he’s been facing the stuff of nightmares without respite. 

The rest of the day passes by in a daze, but by the end of it you’ve resolved to return to the courtyard, to Matty. The sun’s going down by the time you clock out, the courtyard much emptier now that the coffee stand has closed for the day. It’s just you, the pigeons, and Matty. Hands tucked into your coat pockets for warmth, you call out to him.

“Matty! Matty, I’m here. Can you hear me?” Your voice isn’t that loud, the same firm but gentle voice you use with the traumatized children that cycle through your ward, but it causes him to flinch. 

“D’you know the way home, miss?” He asks again. You have to strain to hear him over the noise of the ambulance bay and the rush hour traffic. 

“Tell me where you are Matty and I’ll tell you how to get home, alright?” Your voice is coaxing, but you know that you’re short on time. If the loop continues to play out the way it always has, there’s precious little time before whatever is chasing Matty catches up to him. 

“I’m walking home from practicing the piano…” his voice trails off into nothingness as his eyes go wide with fright. You can do nothing but watch him, a fist in your chest, as he dies in the dirt. With a flicker the loop starts up again, Matty reappearing a few steps away from you. Taking a deep breath in, you start again. You stay for another hour with Matty, until the air is so cold that it slices up your lungs with a hundred paper cuts on every inhale and all the streetlights have turned on. You’ve asked every variation of where are you that you can in those brief few moments before fear consumed him. It’s selfish, but for that whole hour not once did you think of your own empty apartment until you’ve flipped the lights on in it.

And so it goes for the rest of the week. Every day after your shift, you’ll spend an hour or so with Matty. Not every day do you try and find out more from him. Sometimes you simply try to comfort him. He reminds you of someone and it takes a while for you to figure out exactly who. It’s Jason - or more accurately the ghost of Jason Todd, dead and gone too soon. Something about the lightness of their limbs, their shared love of the arts, the way their deaths have left them trapped, it has you even more determined to set Matty to rest. 

[hangmanssunnies]

Send me some of these for a little snippet of House We Share Jake!

~ CUDDLE & SNUGGLE ~ PROMPTS

requested by: anonymous

Feel free to use and reblog!

limbs intertwined on the sofa

getting the greatest feeling of safety from cuddling

desperate hugs

lazy cuddles in the morning

burying face in their chest

trying to crawl under their shirt

falling asleep in each other's arms

mumbling unintelligibly into the embrace

caressing their back when holding each other

revelling in their body warmth

switching roles of big & little spoon

cuddles accompanied by little kisses

cuddles of consolation

cuddles after being touch-starved

squeezing them tightly

needing their cuddles even though they have something else to do

resting head in their lap

leaning against them

hugging them from behind

clinging to them

cuddles to make up for a loss of words

cuddles in bed

snuggling up to them when they're cold

cuddles of reassurance

pulling them closer into their arms

sitting on their lap & cuddling

tucking head into the crook of her neck while cuddling

feeling the rumble of their chest when they talk while cuddling

putting ear over their heart

exchanging soft looks while cuddling

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[cynicalmusings]

can’t wait to get down this wormhole for that eventual chiori fic!

[fum1ku]

LOVE TROPES - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, daichi sawamura, kei tsukishima, keishin ukai, atsumu miya

should i be working on the highly requested pt. 2 to my recent works that’s currently sitting in my drafts? yes. should i also probably be working on the few requests i’ve got in my inbox? also yes. am i still over here writing whatever this is instead of doing those things? absolutely. at least i’m writing something!

OSAMU: friends to lovers.

you had been friends with the miya twins since high school. you had always butt heads with atsumu; bickering back and forth about anything and everything. but it was different with osamu. it felt like you both understood each other, in a way. plus the mutual dislike you both had for atsumu definitely helped. and now, nearly 8 years later, your friendship was still going strong.

well past 8pm, you stood over the front counter at onigiri miya with samu cleaning behind the counter for closing, and atsumu sitting at a stool next to you.

“i don’t know what his problem is! we go out for drinks one night, wind up at his place, and then the next day he can’t even be bothered to send me a single fucking text. seriously. i’m done!” you were going on about your.. most recent boyfriend.

“why don’tcha just dump him then?” atsumu offered, his mouth full of the onigiri osamu had made for him.

“atsumu, you’re disgusting! and i can’t because we aren’t even a thing! which is good—i don’t want us to be.”

osamu laughed at you two from behind the counter.

“okay well then what’s the problem! i don’t understand you women,” atsumu exclaimed, licking off the last bits of onigiri form his fingertips and shoving his plate behind the counter. “i’ve got practice tomorrow. so i’m gone. some of us actually have real problems that aren’t centered around one night stands with guys!”

“oh right, atsumu, like your sex life is any better,” you muttered. the door slammed shut behind him as the bell above the door exhibierst through the building.

you sighed, sinking further into your chair.

“here,” osamu slid a plate towards you. “might make ‘ya feel better. plus i need feedback to see if it’s worth addin’ to the menu.”

you smiled. “thanks, osamu. and yeah, i’ll give good feedback, promise!”

osamu smiled to himself as he wiped down the back counter. yeah, sure, after 8 years of pining he was no closer to asking you out. but, no matter what, he’d always be here to make you food whenever another boy made you cry.

DAICHI: love at first sight.

it had been a long practice and daichi had decided to treat everyone to a snack down at sakanoshita. daichi stood with suga and asahi waiting for the 1st and 2nd years to finish grabbing their fill. tanaka and noya had seen daichi paying as an opportunity to grab whatever they wanted.

“c’mon you guys!” suga yelled from across the store. “we don’t have all day!”

it has been a long day of classes for you, so it wasn’t even an option in your mind whether you should stop at the convenience store or not. only now you had found yourself in your own little debate.

“milk tea.. or coffee?” you mumbled to yourself. you were bent down over the drinks section taking your sweet time.

daichi turned around to see you and knew he was gone right then and there.

suga scoffed at the two 2nd years taking their time, only to turn back and find daichi’s gaze focused on you.

“hey, daichi, maybe we should���” he started, but stopped as soon as he noticed daichi staring. he whispered to asahi and they both began berating their poor captain.

“c’mon, dude! why don’t you just go talk to them? we obviously have the time!” suga nudged at his arm.

daichi denied anything. “hey, i don’t even now what you’re talking about, suga! we’re here for snack for the team, just go focus on that.”

“hey, don’t we go to school with them? y/n l/n. class 2, i think,” asahi piped up. he couldn’t remember where exactly he knew you from, though.

daichi was sure if he had gone to school with you, he’d remember.

“they’re in photography club! that’s how i know them! they asked me to join after i dropped out of volleyball,” asahi recalled, loud enough to grab your attention.

you looked up to find the set of 3rd years staring in your direction. your drink in hand, you made your way up to them.

“azumane, right? nice to see you again!” you beamed.

“y-yeah, right! good to see you too, l/n,” he smiled, nervously.

“are you guys in line?” you questioned.

“no—no we’re not! sorry about that!” daichi apologized, moving to the side to allow you to get to the register.

you placed your drink on the counter, making small talk with the guy at the front register.

“c’mon, daichi! if you don’t ask them before they leave you might not get to again!” suga whispered.

“suga, let it go. it’s too strange—they don’t even know me.”

suga shoved daichi forward just as you turned around to make your way towards the door.

“oh! hi!” you mused.

“s-sorry. hi.. again.”

“sawamura, right? you’re the captains of the volleyball team!” you smiled.

“yeah, i am. and you’re l/n, right? asahi was telling me about you. you’re in photography.

“i am, actually! and please, just call me y/n!”

“then just call me daichi!”

first name basis after 10 minutes? way to go daichi!

“actually..” you started. “i was wondering if it’d be possible for me to take some action shots of the volleyball team? i was going to use them for an upcoming project of mine. of course if not, that’s okay too! you probably need to talk it over with the team.”

“yeah—absolutely! i’ll have to talk it over with everyone, but i don’t see it being a problem at all,” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “what class are you in? i can talk to you some time next week to figure out what day would work best.”

“here,” you said, turning around to the man behind the counter. “excuse me, do you have a pen i could borrow?”

the man tossed you a pen, not giving a second look to you from behind his magazine. you pulled out daichi’s arm and started scribbling down numbers.

your.. phone number?

“now you can call me, that’ll be easier!” you smiled. “anyways, i gotta run. see you later, daichi. tell azumane i said bye too!”

he was speechless. did he really manage to get your number without even trying?

suga ran up behind him. “dude! how? you hardly said anything to them!”

“wow, daichi’s got skills with the ladies!” tanaka mused, noya trailing behind them. their arms were stacked full with all kinds of snacks.

he was definitely not paying for all of those.

KEI: academic rivals to lovers.

you worked at the library at the university you attended. tsukishima had seen you around campus a few times. yamaguchi would go as far as to describe you as tsukishima’s “campus crush”—which tsukki of course denied. he hardly even knew you.

but, this semester is when things finally got interesting. you had wound up taking the course tsukishima was the TA for.

you were currently bent down behind a bookshelf in the campus library, organizing the books that needed to be put away. you noticed a hand grab a book off your cart.

you stood up. “anything you need help finding?”

“no,” the man stated, blankly.

you examined the book in his hand. “wait. are you in psych 301? haven’t seen you in there before.”

“kei tsukishima. i’m the assistant in that class this semester.”

“oh! i’m y/n l/n. are you reading that book for fun then, or?”

“i know. i graded your last essay. something about the human consciousness or whatever,” he stated, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

your face went hot. “oh? so you were the one that gave me a B- on that. that was the best paper i’ve written all semester!”

“yeah, only because you can’t write any better ones. and maybe actually read the syllabus before you join the class,” he deadpanned.

“okay, mr. know-it-all. and for what it’s worth, i did in fact read the syllabus.”

“well if you actually paid attention, then you’d know this book was meant to be read alongside the other materials.”

wait. what?

before you could say another word, he placed the book back down in the cart. “my email is on the syllabus if you’d actually care to read it. good luck actually passing the class.”

you were so going to find that syllabus. and you were definitely doing to pass that class.

KEISHIN: second chance.

stepping foot into sakanoshita after years felt like a dream. but seeing keishin, your high school boyfriend, sitting there behind the counter, was what really sent you back.

“keishin?”

ukai actually took the time to look up form his magazine, and he was glad he did. “y/n?”

“keishin!” you smiled. “i didn’t realize you family still owned the place!”

he stood up form his seat behind the counter. “yeah! work here part-time, coach volleyball the other half.

“you coach volleyball? does the old ukai not coach anyone then?”

“nah, old man retired last year. still coaches a few younger kids on the side. but, hey, how have you been? it’s been years since i last saw you in miyagi. 4? 5, maybe?”

“yeah,” you sighed. “it’s definitely been awhile. but life has been great in tokyo. my internship finally ended and so i’m back here for the next month or two!”

“really? you got to let me take you out sometime—drinks, to celebrate.”

you felt the slight rush of heat to your cheeks. “r-right! of course!”

“hey, if you wanted, we close in less than an hour. you could wait here till then, catch up, then let me take you out for drinks.”

“alright,” you smiled, taking a seat behind the counter next to ukai. “tell me about your team then. where do you coach? karasuno?”

you felt like you were 16 all over again. just him and you.

ATSUMU: opposites attract.

you were the promotional manager for the msby black jackals. everyone on the team loved you—yes, even sakusa. though he wouldn’t admit it. but, atsumu being the sly guy he is, took every opportunity to flirt with you. of course, keeping things professional, you shut him down every chance you got. plus, it would never work. ever. you knew that.

he was childish, you were mature—top of your office only a few months in. he was selfish half the time, and he’d always describe you as one of the most thoughtful people he’s ever met. he was confident and bold. you were quiet and reserved, at least time him. so when you find yourself alone with him at the gym one night late after practice, going through your binder of advertising ideas, you didn’t know what to make of it. the way you could feel he eyes focused on you and only you drove you insane.

you finally took a break form your rant about new promotional ideas for the team, leaving a heavy silence between the two of you.

“y/n?” he finally said, breaking for silence.

“yeah, atsumu?” you respond, not looking up form your binder.

“you should let me take ‘ya out. i mean it.”

you quietly gasped to yourself.

sure, atsumu had made pass after pass at you every day for the last few months since you started working with the team. but, this time, he sounded so.. genuine.

what’s even worse is you couldn’t help yourself from the words the escape your lips in the last moment.

“okay.”

© fum1ku 2024.

⁂ taglist: @chloiyoomi @eashn + let me know if you want to be added! 💌

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[minotaurs-my-beloved]

Your first lesson in riding

Cowboy minotaur my beloved<33

TW: nothin! i just love minotaurs and this has been sittin in my drafts for like months. forgive me if the dialogue isn't the best, im not used to writing it

In an attempt to get a fresh start on life, you and a really close friend had recently moved to a new small town in the south thinking it'd be the perfect place. And after a long first day at work, you decided to go to the local bar, wanting to let loose a bit after the stress of moving and your job. 

Standing at the bar, you rest your crossed arms on the wood, ordering a drink. Keeping to yourself because, let's be honest, none of us have the confidence to ever go up to anyone, only to hear someone come up and stand next to you. Flicking your eyes over to see who it is and being graced with the sight of a big, burly, minotaur. His brown short furred body ripples with muscles still visible even through his shirt, shaggy hair slightly covering his eyes, white hat sitting on his head nuzzled between his big sharp horns. 

"Oh... oh he's fuckin' pretty" is all you can think as you stare unabashedly at the man. After a second he feels your gaze and turns slightly to face your direction, the both of you locking eyes. Blushing hard you quickly rip your gaze from him, mentally crying that you no longer get to drool over his Herculean body, a Greek tragedy indeed, but you're far too embarrassed at being caught to try again.

He huffs out a laugh though his cute cow snout at your reaction, the gold bull ring shining in the fairly dim lighting. 

"You must not be from 'roun here, haven't seen you before. Names Mason." He growls out softly, staring down at his drink, a smile on his lips. It takes you a second to understand what he said, your mind lagging like my old ass computer. Turning to him you give him your name then answer him, "I just moved here bout a week ago." You respond, downing your shot, hoping it'll give you some courage, but all it does is burn your throat. He takes a slow sip of his own drink, setting it down, and facing you, "Pretty name for a pretty girl." 

Turning around to lean your back against the wood, you tease him, laughing, "Bit generic." All while trying to ignore that, generic or not, it still made you feel a few butterflies. 

He chuckles, moving to stand in front of you, "Sorry, darlin', I don't get to flirt much with women." You raise your eyebrows slightly at that comment, clearly not believing he doesn't get attention. 

"Mhmmm'' You grin, rolling your eyes playfully. "What? M'bein' serious! I mean sure, they come up to me, but 'm rarely interested enough to actually hold a conversation." He defends, raising his hands and chuckling.  "Oh? Well lucky me, being deemed worthy of your presence," you tease. He nods, leaning over you to grab his drink and take a sip while looking down at you, jokingly humming in agreement.

The tension is thick in the air as you stare at him, lips slightly parted. Without taking the time to actually think about your next move, you raise yourself on your tiptoes, just managing to reach the brim of his hat and pull it off. Placing it on top of your own, you grin up at him. 

He takes a deep breath turning his head to the side and clicking his tongue quietly, just barely managing to contain himself at how damn good you look wearing his hat. 

"You done got me riled, sweetheart. You can't be waltzin' around wearin' a cowboy's hat like that. Gonna give folks the wrong idea."

"Mm, and why is that?"

"There's some old sayin about if you wear a cowboy's hat, you gotta go home wit' 'im. Means nothin' to me, but, everything gets exaggerated and rumors spread like a wildfire in a small town like this." He warns, but that only fuels you more, "What if I want that?" You purr in a low tone, grinning as you run the pad of your thumb on the brim of the hat.

"Fuckin' tease," He growls in response. "You really want that?"

"M'wearin' your hat, aren't I?"

He takes you by the hand, leading you outside to his truck. It's extremely stupid to get in the car with a stranger but you do it anyway, he's just too good to give up. You do send your friend a quick text explaining the situation and give her your location, so at least you weren't completely defenseless.

If anyone were to ask you what his house looks like you'd have no answer, the both of you were far too busy messily kissing to notice literally anything around you. Kicking the door shut and throwing you down on the bed, he starts to slowly undress you. All except the hat.

He spreads your thighs apart, squeezing them while kissing up and down the inner part, leaving little bite marks in his wake, teasing his tongue just around your cunt.

"Stop teasin'!" You whine, bucking your hips slightly, furrowing your brow and pouting. "Yes Ma'am," he lazily salutes, before burying his tongue deep inside your cunt, moaning into your pussy at how good you taste. The vibrations make your eyes roll back, your leg kicking slowly in pleasure. He keeps intense eye contact with you as he laps at your pussy, sloppily making out with your cunt. Flicking his tongue on your clit, he slowly pushes one of his thick fingers inside, beginning to stretch you out.

Three fingers deep, you cum all over his hands and face, your thighs shaking as you pull his hair harshly and scream his name. That only encourages him to go faster, sucking on your clit til you push his head away.

He gives you a cocky grin, licking his fingers clean and giving you one more kiss on your thigh. Tapping your ass twice, he pants, "C'mon, baby, wear the hat, ride the cowboy. Up." Still shaking slightly, you get on you knees, throwing your leg over his body to straddle him.

Groaning as you grind down on him, his fingers press into your skin, leaving little indents on your hips. You lift off of him for a moment to pop the tip in before slowly sinking down on his massive cock, whimpering at the stretch. Stopping half way to catch your breath, he rubs little circles on your skin to soothe you, "You're doin' such a damn good job, darlin', real proud of yah."

He continues to praise you as you begin to take the rest of him. Cautiously, you begin to ride his cock, moaning as he hits every single spot deep inside you. "M-mason! Fuck, so deep!" You rest both of your hands on his chest, using them to help you bounce up and down, whining each time his dick slams deeper into you, tears already beginning to form in the corners of your eyes.

He groans, throwing his head back and slapping your ass, moaning out more praise, loving to watch you keen at his words. After a while he notices your thighs trembling and starts helping you lift your hips. "G-gonna cum!" You choke out, he grabs your face, forcing you to look down into his eyes.

"Don't you dare look away." Mason growls, your body forces you to listen, trying your hardest not to let your eyes roll back as you clamp down on your cock, milking him for all he's worth. He holds your hips still as he rams up into you, filling you up with his hot cum.

You collapse onto the bed, the both of you sweaty and panting, Mason reaches over, hooking his arm over your waist and pulling you into his chest, putting his head atop your own.

You're never giving this man up.

[byunpum]

Safe heaven

Pair: Neteyam x Human!reader (sully family, others na'vi)

Warning: Neytiri being a bit(a lot) controlling, forced pairing, cozy moments, comfort moments, All characters are adults.

Note: I had this draft half done, and decided to finish it today. Let's see what you think, I left it open ended. If it's received good feedback I'll continue…it's a short story. But how did you find it so far?

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Ko-fi

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4[final]

Returning to the Omaticaya clan, where Neytiri was born, grew up and raised her children, was the best thing she could have done. After the confrontation with the RDA, things seemed to calm down. After a year of living in the Metkayina clan, the Sullys returned to their clan in the jungle. They were accepted immediately and things seemed to be running smoothly. But lately something was making neytiri anxious, and it was the future of her children. Tuk and kiri were still very young, they were just starting to live, lo'ak was still in training, he was not far away from becoming a man. But neteyam was already a man, he was at the perfect age to find a mate and make a family of his own. And neytiri was going to handle this. She wanted neteyam to make a good choice, neteyam was next in line to be Olo'eyktan. As the son of toruk makto, that was a position he had to take, and he had to have a good partner by his side. The mate neteyam chose also chose the position he wanted to belong to, and neytiri wanted him to have the best place in this clan.

Neytiri was given the task of introducing them to the best women in the clan, and with the best references. Many girls were after neteyam and she knew it…she had heard how the girls talked about how amazing and handsome her son was, but neytiri had to find the girl she found perfect. But whenever she introduced a new girl to neteyam he would just say hello…talk to her for a few minutes and that was it. He showed no interest in them, it was as if another ordinary clan member was talking to him. But this did not stop neytiri, that was until she met Lekka. She was a majestic na'vi, she was very beautiful. Not to mention how skilled she was at hunting, a true warrior. Neytiri thought that this girl would be the perfect match for her eldest son, besides the girl had told him that she was very attracted to neteyam and that she was interested in him. So neytiri took this sign as a good opportunity to introduce them both to each other.

Today was a hunting party, neteyam with the Na'vi hunting party had a good day. The hunt had been a success, and they were having a small celebration in the clan, just outside the hallelujah caves. A nice hidden place and perfect for carrying on the omaticaya traditions. The whole clan was there, including some humans. Of course, the Omaticaya clan already had to coexist with the good humans, who had helped them fight this battle between species. The laughter, the dancing filled the atmosphere with peacefulness…neteyam was with his group of friends, moving away for a moment to get a drink. It wasn't until he bumped into his mother. -"Neteyam I glad you're here," said neytiri, next to her was this girl, lekka. Neteyam had to admit she was very pretty. But… he wasn't impressed. -"Hi mom…" neteyam speaks nervously, he already knew where his mother was coming from. It wasn't the first time she introduced him to a na'vi girl. Neytiri laughs a little, taking the girl's arm to bring her closer to Neteyam. - "May I introduce you to lekka, she is the daughter of telup" speaks neytiri. Neteyam makes the 'I see you' sign waving to the girl.

Neteyam could see how nervous the woman was, she was shaking a little bit. And she was looking down, he felt a little sorry for these girls. Her mother always put them in this embarrassing situation. -"Nice to meet you… it's a pleasure. My name is neteyam" neteyam speaks. -"Yes… I've heard a lot about you," says Lekka with a trembling voice. Neytiri apologizes to the couple of guys, telling them that she was going to go get more food, but it was a pretend to leave them alone. According to her everything was going as she had planned. Neytiri proudly approaches the group that was waiting for her and watching from afar. Mo'at, Tsu'tey, Jake were looking at her walking towards them, with a big smile on her face. Neytiri approaches and sits down next to Jake. -"And what do you do now?" asks Mo'at, the woman didn't have to look at her daughter to know that she had done something. -"Me? nothing…the essentials," says neytiri, she is proud of her work, she has just introduced an amazing girl to her son.

"You know that's not going to work, right?" says mo'at. Listening as neytiri chokes a little on her drink. "Mother what are you talking about, of course I do" says neytiri, looking to jake for support. But he just shifts his gaze, trying not to be included in the conversation. On the other hand tsu'tey looks curiously at the two women. "You're trying to get neteyam together with that girl…you can tell he doesn't like her. Besides…this trying to get together never works, look at you," says mo'at. Now it was jake's turn to choke, but from laughter. He knew mo'at was referring to how he and neytiri met. Meanwhile tsu'tey made a groan of annoyance and leaned back on the log behind him. - "I witnessed that, and I agree with mo'at" complains tsu'tey watching as jake continues to laugh.

"Hey…but this is different. Neteyam is different, I know what I'm doing" says neytiri, sitting up more in her seat. She was getting upset, no one in her family understood her. But she wanted neteyam to make the right choice and take her rightful place again. "Love…I know why you're doing this, but it's not necessary. Neteyam will eventually find a girl he likes, you should leave him alone" jake says, but he can see how neytiri is looking at him with a pout. Grimacing for him to keep quiet, jake just laughs a little and keeps drinking. he knew neytiri was stubborn and didn't care what anyone else thought, she was going to do it. Jake watches as neteyam is talking to the girl. You could see how uncomfortable he was, fidgeting a little. His tail was curled up at his heels and he glanced at the group of friends from time to time. - "He looks very nervous," says tsu'tey, he was also looking at the boy. - "Why is he…neytiri" speaks mo'at, looking at his daughter. Neytiri rolls her eyes, and now looks at her son. She clearly noticed how uncomfortable the boy was, but she supposed it was normal. He had never talked to that girl before, he might be nervous because of how cute she was. -"They look good together," says Neytiri. - "Yes they look good…but he doesn't look good" jake grimaces, the interaction his oldest son was now having with that girl was horrible.

"Mo'at?" y/n taps the woman's shoulder, getting her attention. - "Oh, what's wrong?" says mo'at, turning to look at you. All the group's attention was now on you. -"I'm going to go rest, I've finished doing the chores you told me to do," you say, laughing a little.

You had been one of the human children born here in Pandora, just like Spider. And it was normal for you to have interacted with the na'vi from an early age… but while spider preferred to be playing with the sully children, you preferred to go look for fun elsewhere. And that's where you met mo'at, the woman noticed how every day you would go to her hut and watch her in awe as she worked. Or when she was doing her daily chores, you always followed her. She never complained about you, you were quiet and calm, so your presence pleased her. One day mo'at invited you to approach her, and that's when you started asking questions. Which surprised mo'at, you were a very intelligent child, for such a young age. Something told mo'at that she had to help you, and accept you. So she dedicated herself to become your guardian…she would teach you, take care of you and make you join the clan. She would never be your mother, but she would care for you like one.

"Oh thanks, I'll look at the results later" says mo'at, stroking your hand a little. -"Hey, why don't you stay a bit to celebrate… kiri is over there," says jake, waiting for you to accept. You had grown up with his children, you were practically a daughter to him. For some reason, neytiri had no problem with you when you were around his children, she thought you were good. But only that. -"mmm no thanks, I want to go rest" you apologize, and say goodbye to everyone. Starting your way to the lab. -" She has helped you a lot, hasn't she?" speaks tsu'tey, looking at mo'at. The woman was still looking at you from afar, with a proud look. - "You know…she has a great future. She's smart and a quick learner," mo'at says. -And not only in the medical field…in technology she is amazing, you have to see how she helps norm, she is very smart" says jake. Everyone is silent for a moment. -"Besides…she's a very sweet girl, she's good" says mo'at while he continues eating. Neytiri doesn't say anything, she just listens curiously and then turns all her attention to her son neteyam. When she looked, she saw that the boy was no longer there. Instead there was a lekka alone, waiting for the boy to return. Neytiri stood up quickly, approaching the girl. "Where is neteyam?" asked Neytiri, looking around to see if she could find her son. -"I don't know…he said he was going to look for something, and he hasn't come back," says Lekka. Neytiri was going crazy, she didn't know what she was going to do with that boy.

After talking to mo'at, you decided to go to your favorite place. You knew you had told mo'at you were going to rest, but you didn't dare tell her where you were really going to go or do. Walking secretly, as you went deeper into the jungle, you thanked Pandora's nature for being so bright. It was a spectacle for your eyes, walking faster to get to your secret place. Not far away, about 20 minutes walk, there was a crashed plane. You were sure that it was from the first war that the RDA had with the clan, because it was very deteriorated, and the first time you had found it you had to clean some skeletons that were still inside. After a while this had become your secret place. You reached the entrance of the plane, opening it carefully… pushing open a door you had made out of metal. Entering and pointing at it as you closed the door. Approaching a machine you had created not long ago, stretching the rope so that it would turn on and start doing its job, oxygenating the area. This machine allowed the air around it to be clean and safe for you to breathe, at least 10 feet away. The plane had some closed areas, so that the good oxygen didn't get out, but still the pandora's air came in. But still, it was safe for you.

This was the best thing you did…invent. As Norm used to say, you were a little box of surprises, always inventing things and improving others. Since you were little you had been like that, your head was full of ideas and this hideout was the representation of that. Although it didn't have the best structure and your goal was to sign it completely, you were still working on it. Taking off your oxygen mask, placing it on the wall. To start getting more comfortable, he had to be here before long. Or so you thought, looking out the broken window a little. Not getting too close, without leaving your safe zone. You see that no one is around. You sit down near a small table you had down at night, starting to work on the new oxygen mask prototype you were making. You were so busy, you didn't hear the first knocking on the front door. Knock, knock, knock… the knocking got louder and you panicked. Keeping silent, and turning off the lights you had on.

Carefully approaching the door, to see who it was. -"Hey…baby it's me" you hear his voice, and smile a little relieved that it was him. You turn on all the lights and open the door quickly, meeting the boy. Neteyam was at the entrance, looking around, making sure no one was watching him. -"Hey get in quick…the air is getting thinner," you say, taking his hand and pushing him into the plane. Neteyam laughs as he enters carefully, lowering his head as he passes through the door. As soon as he enters, he can feel you wrap your arms around his neck, trapping him in a soft kiss. Giggling against your lips, as he holds you around the waist. Sitting carelessly on the floor. - "Y/N…love" neteyam was laughing, as you pull away caressing his face. Arranging his hair, looking at him carefully, studying his mood. He looked somewhat exhausted and overwhelmed…something seemed to be bothering him. -Are you upset?" you ask, watching as Neteyam lays his head on your chest.

He was sitting on the floor and you were standing between his legs. This allowed a perfect height for him to lie on top of you. -"I am… but it's not you," says Neteyam, as you hug his head closer to your chest. - "Well…anytime you want to talk about it, I'm here," you say. He closes his eyes for a moment, then pulls away from you. "hey, take this," neteyam pulls out of his small pouch, a piece of food that he had wrapped in a leaf. -I saw that you left quickly…you haven't eaten anything," says Neteyam, watching as you take the piece of food and walk away from him, sitting down right in front of him. "Mmmm yeah…I was going to eat with you, but…you looked busy" you open the leaf, but neteyam could see your raised eyebrows. -"Oh, that…this is lekka…you know how my mom is about introducing me to girls" says neteyam, taking your foot in his hands to start massaging it. He didn't want you to bother with him, he wasn't to blame.

"mmm she's very beautiful, I've heard how good she is" you speak, taking a bite of the meat. Now looking up to see neteyam, he was looking at you with a soft smile on his lips. His little eyes are sparkling, as if he is looking at the most beautiful thing in this universe. -"But she's not as beautiful as you…you know that," says neteyam, watching you grimace. Trying not to laugh or choke. Neteyam reaches out his hand, to wipe some sauce from your lips. - "I'm serious… you are so beautiful in my eyes" says the boy, leaving you speechless. He always left you speechless.

You two had grown up together, although you preferred to be with mo'at. You also went to play with spider and the sully boys. Even when you were growing up you preferred to be with neteyam, nothing ever happened. You were just good friends, it wasn't until neteyam had to leave the clan that you noticed that your feelings for him were much greater. Just like neteyam, you promised each other that you would see each other again. And so he kept it, when he returned to the clan the first person neteyam went to look for was you. From then on you had not separated, starting this relationship on the quiet. You used to meet here on the plane, and only here you could be together. Outside you were just good friends…but here is your secret hiding place, you were yourselves. This situation was time consuming, and sometimes it could be exhausting for the two of you.

After eating, and making jokes about hunting neteyam. You both decided to lie down and talk for a while. Neteyam was leaning back in a rather large chair in the plane. While you were lying between his legs, with your back against his chest. Netayam was holding your hand, playing with your fingers, looking at how strange and beautiful they were at the same time. - "Hey…did you notice that now the walls of the plane are sitting more" you speak, listening as Netayam answers you with a 'hmm'. - "I won't close all the windows though, so you can still get your air in and be comfortable in here" you speak. - "you're great baby… I don't know how you have all these ideas" says neteyam, kissing your hair. "I don't know, it's just natural" you laugh, feeling Neteyam wrap his arms around your torso. To pull you closer to him, kissing your shoulder. Lately you had been wearing the na'vi outfit that kiri had given you, and neteyam loved it. He could feel you better this way, without the horrible human clothes you used to wear.

"Baby… how about if you stay to sleep with me here…today?" asks neteyam, you can feel how his tail gives you some taps on your feet. He felt nervous about your answer, it wasn't the first time neteyam proposed this to you, but you always denied it. Saying that norm was waiting for you in the lab. It was partly true, but not that much. -"Mmm I'm not sure" you start to speak, but neteyam interrupts you. -"It would only be today… I don't want to leave you" neteyam hugs you more tightly. Norm wasn't necessarily expecting you, but you knew he was going to ask a lot of questions the next day. Just like neteyam, he knew what he was expecting and even more so coming from his mother. But he didn't really care, he wanted to rest with you, to spend more time with you.

You think about it for a moment… it would be fine if you stayed here. This place was perfectly equipped, besides… you also wanted to stay with him like this. - "Well… it's okay. But we have to get up early, ok" you look up, seeing how neteyam was giving you a big smile. In one swift movement neteyam, grabs you by the waist and lifts you up to get on top of you. You were all giggles, feeling him start to kiss your neck, and chest. "I'm at your service sweetheart" neteyam says excitedly, lying on top of you letting his head rest on your breasts. Breathing deeply of your scent, wrapping his arms all over your body. Sometimes he could forget that he was almost twice your size, and that lately he had grown muscularly. -"You're crushing me," you tease, feeling him release you. -"I'm sorry" he laughs, kissing your lips one last time before settling back. You were his safe haven in this world.

In the hut…

"Hey, have you seen neteyam?" neytiri asks jake. They had gone to sleep very late, noticing that they had never seen neteyam return. Neteyam was still with them in the family hut, although he could go and do whatever he wanted. Noticing that all the kids had arrived but him. "No, maybe he went off to do something else, or he's with someone else," said Jake, not really paying attention to what he said, he was too busy sharpening his knives. But this made neytiri even more curious and she started to think. Maybe neteyame saw lekka again, and she told neytiri that she hadn't seen him so she wouldn't be embarrassed. Or was neteyam with another girl? Or he was getting tired. Neytiri didn't want to look like a stalker mother, but she had to know what was going on in her eldest son's head.

P.S What do you think of this story? I would like to know what you think. <3

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

A story of a lifetime spent growing together. To what end?

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

TW: Bullying based on disability. Death of a parent. Angst. Grief.

Hi Guys.

This has sat in my drafts for months and inside my head for even longer. There is no part 2 planned. This is angsty with fluffy moments. Be warned.

I think we can all agree the most heart wrenching media moment of all time is Toy Story 2 and the below song.

If you don't agree. Move along this is not for you.

Reader calls Alexia, Alex throughout this fic. That's based on this video. Cause I have never heard someone refer to that and I thought it was cute. Alexia refers to R as 'Conejito' as a literal translation of bunny - I have since realised there's a more vulgar translation of this which I'm ignoring. Ha.

Spoiler Alert - This story deals with the death of a parent. Which I went back and forth on writing. Something about it still feels ick to me because these are real people. I may delete. Everything within is based on my own experience of parental loss. And it comes from no place of malace or weirdness.

This also deals with a severe speech impediment - which again, I do not suffer from myself but have experience with and hope I have done the struggle justice for anyone who may suffer.

My spanish is google translate because I am an ignorant English speaker. Apologies.

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

You found yourself where you usually could be found, to anyone who would take notice. Which wasn’t anyone to your knowledge except for a few observant teachers. In the art room, in the back corner, working relentlessly at an easel that your favourite teacher would set up for you.

You had transferred into the school part way through term, and for the first few days as with most schools you were the new and shiny thing. At 12 a lot of the kids in school had known each other since birth and you were new fresh blood to entertain them.

That didn’t last too long though when they realised you weren’t actually that interesting.

Shy and quiet as you always had been, you kept yourself to yourself. Its not that you didn’t want to make friends. You did. You so desperately did. But you just didn’t know how.

You had a stutter. That never helped. Kids could be cruel. And with the move from your hometown to Mollet for your mum's job it had only gotten worse. 

Words felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw felt tight and you struggled to get your words out. They stuck in your throat and refused to move from there. 

The teachers were kind. Your peers were not. Your speech therapist was helping. You spent more time than any 12 year old should thinking about sentence structure and breathing techniques.

You knew your parents worried about you. Waiting for you to get home from school every day with worried glances and eager smiles; “Did you make any friends today niña?” your dad would ask, pretending to be casual, flicking through some book or another. “Not today Papi.” You would reply, never wanting to lie to your family, before happily jumping the couch next to him and starting to scribble in your notebook.

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

Because there was always tomorrow. And on an unusually rainy day for Mollet tomorrow came.

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

The door to the art room quickly opened and slammed closed. The noise jolts you out of your peaceful reverie. A tall brunette girl smashed her back against the door and a hand quickly flicked out to turn the lights off to the room.

She clearly hadn’t noticed you huddled in the corner as she slid down the door onto her butt. Closing her eyes she let out a deep sigh and rested her forehead on her knees.

You didn't know what to do.

You knew who she was. Of course you did. She was Alexia Putellas.

The Alexia Putellas. Futbol superstar. Well… the 12 year old playground version of that. The coolest girl in school. She oozes confidence. Was always surrounded by a gaggle of your peers. Never without a ball at her feet or in her hands. But she hadn’t noticed you. Arm still raised working on the canvas in front of you, vision now impeded by the dark she had forced onto the room by turning the light off. You froze. Mouth slightly agape and hand starting to sweat. You watched as she rocked her forehead side to side on her knees. Your arm became tired in its upright position and the noise of you plopping the brush back into the water jar seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. Her neck snapped up and you met her wide, hazel eyes that bore into you. “Oh! Lo siento, I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone else was in here.” She was met with silence. Your stutter affected you terribly on a good day. Nevermind your safehaven suddenly being invaded by the coolest girl in school. Who you had idolised from afar since arriving in Mollet. Her head tilted curiously as she took you in. You felt her eyes drift to the canvas behind you. “Did you paint that?” She stands to her full height, still keeping her distance from you. “Why are you painting in the dark…?” She asks curiously. Head still tilted. Faced with a direct question you couldn’t put it off any longer. You couldn’t delay the inevitable. “Y..y…you, tu…tu….switched off….” Changing the words you intended to use halfway through was a coping mechanism that your therapist had tried to get you to work out of your system. She called it masking. You called it getting by. You raise your hand and point to the lightswitch that she had flicked when she entered the room. She looks at you harder now. You feel her eyes boring into you and wait for the inevitable laughter. The pity. Maybe even the cruelty that you are used to when people hear you speak. You cast your eyes down, waiting for the blow. But you just hear a flick of a switch, and the darkness behind your eyelids lifting. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have switched it off if I had known. I was just trying to get away. I kicked a football at Senorita Lopez by accident in the gym. They won’t let me play outside in the rain. Idiotas” You lift your eyes at her gentle, lilting tone as a smile teases your lips. She's moved closer to you now. “You didn’t answer. Did you paint this?” Her hand comes out to hover over the lines of your still-wet painting. Carefully. Again, you’ve been asked a direct question. “Si.” you reply, quietly. You don’t struggle so much with single words. “By yourself?” she asked, aghast, wonder taking over her features. You nod in reply. “This is so cool! Show me!” A grin overtakes your features as you nod more enthusiastically. Glasses slipping down your nose. Pulling out a fresh canvas for your new friend. “Lo siento, I haven’t told you my name. My Papa says it's rude not to introduce myself…” she stands tall and thrusts out her hand. Very formally. Very practised. “I am Alexia Putellas Segura.” You pause for a moment, looking at her outstretched hand. You wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. And shake her hand. “A…A…” you grow frustrated with yourself, the words getting stuck in your throat. You pull your hand away but Alexia keeps her grip firm and nods at you encouragingly. “Al…Alex… Alex.” you give up. Eyes downcast. Maybe you can tell your papa you nearly made a friend today. “Alex! Cool! I’ve never had that nickname! Most people call me Ale. But it can be our thing. I know you, you are y/n I remember Senora Perez making you stand at the front of class. Show me how to paint! Please? ”  Alexia was not a good painter. She quickly got bored and distracted by the newspaper on the desk intended for a paper mache project which she screwed up together, fashioned into a football and then spent the rest of the wet lunchtime kicking around the art room aiming for various targets that she would shout out to you. 

You dutifully cheered at every successful hit of the target. That night as you climbed onto the couch next to your papa and he asked; “Did you make any friends today niña?”. You couldn’t wait to reply; “Si! Alex.” You missed the way his newspaper dropped ever so slightly, and he caught the eye of your mami who was in the kitchen. “Ah, Si? Alex should come for dinner! We would love to welcome him!” He replied, his delight even obvious to you. “No tonta… Alex is a girl!” you let out. In that hilariously moody way only 12 year olds can. You became inseparable. Alexia was your best friend. Complete and total opposites. She would spend wet lunches in the art room with you. She would drag you to the playing fields after school and on break and you would be a goalie for her. Which was really just you standing complaining about where you found yourself and you dived away from balls as she cackled out a laugh. She came round for dinner with your family most nights. You spent every weekend at the Putellas household, travelling to her football games, strapped up next to Alba in the back of the Putellas family car, scribbling away in a notebook as you drew landscapes that you passed. On the way home you would sketch and sketch, only slightly hindered by the weight of your gangly best friend as she slept on your shoulder.  Your art would sit on both family fridges. Alex’s football boots would litter both entrance ways. Your mami would pick Alba up from the junior school if Eli got stuck at work. Joint family dinners were the norm.

Your relationship evolved through the years. Easily. Blissfully. You grew together. You became taller, however still paling in height compared to your best friend. You got braces and had them removed, You wore contacts most days now instead of your thick rimmed glasses. Though you still could usually be found in the art rooms.

Alexia filled out, she became less gangly and more strong, after years dedicated to football and training. 

Your speech improved. Your stammer only comes out rarely and you know your triggers. You worked hard every week with your speech therapist but you always credited Alexia. She gave you confidence. 

No one at school would roll their eyes or laugh at you when Alexia was by your side. She didn’t rush you. She didn’t finish your sentences. Nothing was more formidable within your school walls than if Alexia had found out someone had made fun of you, or not been patient with you. She got in trouble countless times defending your honor. Even if the teachers hated punishing her for it. 

You maybe realised on some level that you were as important to Alexia as she was to you the day that caused her to miss the U15 School Championship final. 

One of the more idiotic older basketball boys had caught you in the hallway. Trying to impress his gaggle of followers he had tripped you up as you were on your way scurrying into the art rooms to finish the sign you had made for Jaume to wave at the upcoming championship final. You had fallen flat on your face, quickly moving onto your back and pressing yourself against the wall. It had been a while due to Alexia's influence but you had dealt with bullies your entire life and you knew you had to just make yourself small and wait it out. “Oh s-s-s-s-s–s-s-oooorry it w-w-w-as an a-a-a-a-accident!!” the boy taunted you, leaning over you and exaggerating your stutter. 

His spittle hitting your face and making you wince. He brought himself to his full height, which was impressive for a 16 year old and turned to his friends. “Honestly, how is she even in this school, she is so estupida!” His guffaw was matched by his followers however their faces quickly dropped as they looked behind their ringleader. “What did you just say to her?” a cold, terse voice entered the conversation. You didn’t see his face drop but you could imagine it. 

He quickly turned and looked at Alexia standing in the doorway. Sunshine behind her darkening your view. As she stepped into the halfway you took in the thunderous look on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her as angry. 

You barely recognised her. “I-i-i sai…” This time he wasn’t impersonating you. 

He knew he was fucked. She moved quicker than you had ever seen her move on the football pitch. The tall boys friends quickly scattered as she grabbed him by his shoulders. He may have had at least two foot of height difference on her but that quickly diminished to nothing as she kneed him squarely between the legs. He doubled over in pain as she landed blow after blow to his stomach. “Alex… stop.” you instructed, gathering yourself to your feet. 

Your voice cut through her rage and she immediately stopped her punches. He scurried off as soon as he was able to, no serious damage done apart from to his ego… and maybe his balls. She turned to face you after shouting some choice expletives to his back, face immediately morphing into one of concern, eyebrows furrowed as her hands cupped your face. “¿Estás bien?” She asked, seriously. Hands moving to check you over. 

“Si, Si, estoy bien.” you replied. “You shouldn’t have done that Alex.” you regarded her with sceptical eyes. 

Her brow furrowed further, “What should I have done then? He’s un maton, he hurt you. I taught him a lesson. I would do it again. I would. I am not sorry.” she said firmly as she moved your head beneath her chin and wrapped her strong arms around you. 

You tried to pretend that the butterflies in your stomach erupting at her protectiveness were a normal reaction to a friend. 

Right? She repeated the same platitudes the next day, but this time with Jaumes hand on her shoulder as she sat in the headmaster's office. The boy she had humiliated so happened to be the son of one of the school governors. The headmaster told the footballer and her father that if Alexia apologised to the boy then she would go unpunished, otherwise, he would be forced to stop any of her extra-curricular activities, including the interschool championship final. Which, as headmaster, he really didn't want to do when his school had their first chance of winning in over a decade. She refused. 

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

Badly. The guilt ate away at you as you both watched from the sidelines as the 5th goal against your team went in. 

She grasped your knee, and still watched the game. “Stop feeling guilty. I am still not sorry. There are more important things than football conejita.” 

You took a breath and placed your hand on top of hers. You turned to look at her incredulously. “I mean, very few. Football is still in the top 2. Food is 3.” she continued, deadpan. Forcing a laugh out of you. You asked her once, years after first meeting, one sleepover when you were both lying side by side on the Putellas trampoline looking up at the stars. Why was she so patient with you? When no one else was? She looked at you, dumbfounded, genuinely confused by the question. “You have a voice y/n. You deserve to be heard.” she replied. Moving into her favourite position which was pulling all of your weight completely on top of her. Your head rested over her heart. You could hear the thump thump thump against your ear. You hoped she couldn’t feel the fluttering of yours.  

It was that simple to her. “Plus you looked like a rabbit in the headlights when I barged in, you were too cute. Mi pequeña coneja”.

Your Alex. 

You transitioned from best friends into girlfriends at 16 with no fanfare. A shy kiss after a win at Alexia's latest championship sealed it. Her grin splitting her face. Yours matching when you realised your dreams could become a reality. Hands held tentatively in the backseat of Jaumes car as he smiled at the scene through his rear view mirror.  Days later, as you both stood in front of your mami and papi shyly holding hands you realised, squeezing the trembling hand in yours, that it was the first time you had seen Alex nervous. In all of your years of friendship.

Alexia still had her weirdly formal streak, the same as the day you met her, so you let her do what she felt she needed to.

“Senor y Senora y/l/n… “ she started, taking a breath. “Mi and y/f/n…”

Your parents caught your eye, dumbfounded. She never used their titles. They rarely heard her use your name. You were always conejito.

“Alexia… estimada…” your mami started, with kind eyes. You could tell she knew what was coming. You shook your head at her slightly, Alexia too caught up in her own moment to notice. Your mami let her speak.

“Mi and y/f/n…”

Your papi, however, was not as emotionally in tune as your mami, “Monito, what is going on? Why are you being muy loca? Have you got mi mija pregnant? I know you're an overachiever bu…” “Papi!” you screeched out, interrupting him. 

Alex stood mouth agape, face flushed as she looked to you for help. “Papi, Mami, Alex is tr…try…tryi… telling you that we’re together together.” you let out, raising your joined hands. Your mami let out a laugh behind her hands, your papi however stood and exclaimed, “Was that some sort of secret!? Dios Mio of course you are! We thought you had been for years!  You made me change your bedtime story from princesses to football-playing princesses on the day you met!  Why do you think your Mami makes you keep your door open when this one stays, Mija?” 

Now it's your turn to blush as your mouth drops open. As he passes Alexia he gently smacks her upside the head, ruffling her long brunette hair. “Now come on cabeza de bola, me and the guys from work are starting a 5 a side. I need your help on penalties…” You huff out a laugh as your girlfriend is dragged away, confused look stuck on her face - eyebrows adorably drawn and mouth furrowed and clinging to your hand until distance forces her to let go. 

Your mami settles her arm across your shoulders. “I’m happy for you Mija” she mutters, in her gentle tone as you fall into her embrace. “You’re going to marry that girl one day.” Even after everything that would happen and the hell you would feel, you thank God for the unseasonal rain in Barcelona that day in junior school.

And when she was sadI was there to dry her tearsAnd when she was happy, so was IWhen she loved me It wasn’t long after you made your relationship official that you had your first real test.

You knew something was wrong with your girlfriend probably before she did. You knew her like the back of your hand. Though it finally came to a head one early evening at the Putellas household.

You had both picked Alba up from school, and you had set out to making dinner in the Putellas kitchen whilst Alexia's parents were both stuck at work.

It was standard practice, occurring at least once a week. You moved through the kitchen with ease. The ease is what alerted you.

Usually, on nights like these, Alba would huff off to her room like any other pubescent teenager, head stuck in her phone and earphones firmly in place. Alexia however, would usually be found attached to your back, arms wrapped around you as you cooked, or sat at the breakfast bar, swiping chopped veggies til you hit her with a spoon to make her stop, rolling your eyes as she insisted she was a growing girl and she needed the extra.

No, this was too easy, you thought, as you moved around, you missed your big inconvenience in the kitchen and you made sure your pasta sauce was bubbling nicely and went to search for her. 

You find her in the living room, her large frame draped over the sofa, eyes mindlessly watching the TV. But you can tell she isn’t watching whatever is on. Ale isn’t a big TV-watcher. She's very rarely sitting still for long enough to concentrate. The exception being if you're in her lap, where she entertains herself by playing with your hair or tracing the lines on your palm. “Hey, amor, estás bien?” your voice brings her out of her thoughts, “Ey? Ah sí conejito, lo siento, is dinner ready?” she asks, making to stand, but being stopped by your hand on her shoulder.  “Ay, when did I become the hired help, ey?” you ask, trying to tease a smile out of your girlfriend. “Dinner will be ready soon. Tell me what's on your mind.” The thing about Alex is she’s an open book. People may think she is stern and serious but she wears her heart on her sleeve. You can always see her thoughts plainly on her face, so you know something troubling her. She knows she can’t hide it from you, so she doesn’t try. “I’ve been offered a professional contract.” She states, plainley. Your heart lifts for her. Your whole life Alexia has bled football. For many years she believed, and you did too though you would never admit it, that it wouldn't be possible to make a career from the sport. You don’t think you have ever seen Alexia as sad as when she aged out of the Barcelona FC teams. She was devastated. It was a harsh reminder that Spain wasn't the USA. The opportunities are not always available. But the thing you loved most about Alexia was her dogged determinedness. She would train in the morning, in the afternoon, between classes. You are overjoyed that all of that hard work has paid off. Something wasn’t adding up with her reaction, however. “Alex, that's amazing news!” you exclaimed, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “Why are you not more excited? Is it a bad deal?” “No, amor, it is a fair deal.” she sighs. You just look into her eyes, waiting for her to tell you what she wants to share. She takes a deep breath. “It’s Levante, I would have to move to Valencia.” Ah, you see. Your heart breaks at the sad frown painted on the usually stern face of your girlfriend. Your hand moves up to trace her eyebrow, forcing them to unfrown and moving down to cup her cheek. She leans heavily into the warmth of your hand, and damp eyes open, fixing to yours. “Oh Alex, it’s okay” you whisper. The truth is you had always known that with the career your girlfriend was destined to follow, that you would have to spend time away from each other. You already did. Alexia has often been away throughout your friendship and now your relationship for national camps. 

You had a very mature relationship for 17 year olds. Having been woven into each other's lives for so many years. You were part of each other's DNA. You knew how to manage the time without your girlfriend. You were both grade A communicators. You accepted that this would be different, and no doubt unimaginably hard for the footballer, her family was her life. But so was football. And you know you needed to encourage her to take this step. “It’s not okay!” she stated, firmly, sitting up straight on the couch. “It’s not fair! Finally I get what I have dreamed of but it comes at the expense of everything I love. Mi familia, Barcelona, you! Why can’t I have both? I don’t know what to do” “You go to Levante, Alexia.” you say, seriously, “This is a huge opportunity for you.” She looks at you incredulously and you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong. “Oh, so it is that easy for you? Si? You just let me go like it doesn’t even bother you!” You aren’t used to Alexia's stern frown being sent your way, usually it's aimed at someone in defence of you. Or at a goalkeeper.  You, however, know the brunette is feeling vulnerable, she has waves of insecurity at times, she puts so much pressure on herself it's inevitable, but you are always there to assure her of her worth, and your love. “You know that's not true, amor.” you say, tenderly, hand reaching into her brunette locks to sooth her. “I agree, it’s not fair that Barca don’t have a women's team but I have always known your talent would take you away from me, “ she opens her mouth to interject, “but I love you. And I know you love me. We are tethered. Forever. When, not if, you go to Valencia, we will make it work. You know we will amor, you can have both” “But I will miss you.” she whimpers, pathetically. “I will miss you every second. But it will get better, it’ll pass Alex.” Her head finds your neck as she settles in there. Her larger frame is quite comically draped over you. “Do you promise?” she lets out, weakly. And you don’t let a moment pass, “I promise.” and seal your promise with a kiss to the crown of her head. She moves her chin up and faces you, “Beso, por favour��� she asks, who are you to refuse? You kiss softly, you don’t know how many minutes you are tasting her sweet lips pass before you are interrupted by a sulky 14 year old.  “Ewwww!”

Alba appeared, making the two of you split apart, her disgust at the scene she's found making you laugh as Alexia peels herself from you, rolling her eyes.

“I’m gonna tell Mami that you two were making out instead of feeding m…ahh!” Albas accusations getting lost as Alexia chases her around the living room, ready to fight in a way only sisters can.

A strange smelling odour fills your nose. Oh… Oh no. You rush into the kitchen to find your dinner smoking on the hob.

“Oi, Putellas diablos!” You stick your head into the living room where you find Alexia sat on her younger sister whilst she tries to battle off the huge weight she finds on herself. They both pause and look at you guiltily. “C’mon, shoes on, we’re going out to eat, on me, we’re celebrating!”

Both of them unite in cheers as they childishly jump up and run to the front door in glee, shoving each other out of the way to try to get their shoes on first as you watch, affectionately shaking your head.

It will be months later, after a summer filled with memories made with your girlfriend, days at the beach, trips to the market, lazy days at home and soft moments made in the streets of Barna, that you would find yourself alone in bed.

That was weird.

You had spent the day packing with Alexia, the sadness of moving away had started to be replaced with excitement from the tall girl. Her dreams were coming true, okay, it may not be perfect, she finally understands, but it's a step in the right direction.

She can’t believe that she's going to get paid to play football.

Paid. The evening after a long day of packing was spent having a family meal at the Putellas household. Your family is also in attendance. It was a loud and joyous affair and it helped to keep the sadness out of your girlfriend's eyes. After a long evening of sombremesa Alexia had insisted on coming back with you to your parents to your house.

She didn’t want to spend her last evening in Barcelona in her empty bedroom, instead finding solace in yours. You had both talked into the early hours, in the arms of each other, trading soft touches and exchanging breaths until sleep took you. You pretended for her sake that you couldn’t hear her rattling breaths or feel the dampness of her cheeks on your fingers.

Now, however, you were alone, and unsure at what woke you up. Until a tapping comes to your attention. You sit up in bed and hear it again. What is that? You get out of bed and go towards your window, yep, there it is again, coming from outside. You throw open the curtains and peer out into the moonlit garden.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but you can’t take that moment because you suddenly are hit squarely in the face by a pebble. 

“Ouch.. what the he…” you stand suddenly and bang your head on the window frame “Ow, Fuck!” “Ay Dios Mío, lo siento amor! I didn’t see you had opened the window!” Alexia's panicked voice reached your ears, why was she in the garden? What the hell was going on? “Are you okay conejito?” You take a moment to steady yourself and your mind into your new and abrupt situation. “Conejito?” “Yes, Alex, I am fine. What are you doing out there?” You’re met with silence. “Al?” The tall brunette is scuffing her foot against the pebbles of the garden that she had previously been launching at the window. “I don’t want to say. I feel stupid now.” You arch your eyebrow in her direction. You don't think that she can even see it but she knows what's aimed in her direction. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. And also sad. And muddled. And I will miss you so much so I was just imagining how good it will feel when you visit, or I visit. Or when I score a goal and you’re watching. Which I know you’ve seen but now it's my job.” she rambles, pausing momentarily to take a breath. 

“Anyway, I thought about how cool it would be if I came to visit and woke you up by throwing stones at your window like in a film! You’d love that! Then I just couldn’t wait to do it. So here’s me, doing it. I’m being romantic.” She throws a crooked grin up at the window and your heart literally melts. “I..I….” and you promptly burst into tears. “Oh no mi amor no! Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to throw a pebble at your face! I’m sorry!” she gestures towards you with her hands frantically. “It’s not that Alex, you’re just such an idiot. And I love you so much. I am going to miss you so much. Get up here.” needing her arms wrapped around you. She nods vigorously and makes to climb the trellis that goes to your window. “No you idiot! Use the door! You have a key!” “Oh yeah.” you hear her mutter to herself before she scurried back inside. As you’re settled back into her warm arms, her huge hands palming through your hair. “That was very romantic Alex.” you mumble and you practically hear her purr with pride at herself. “Next time though bebe, use your key, I would much rather you be here in bed with me.” “Noted.” she mumbles into your skin, wiping away the tears that you can’t stop from rolling down your cheeks. Alexia got settled into her professional team quickly and efficiently, she was one of the youngest but easily the most talented on the pitch. You would travel up with Jaume religiously at the weekends wherever you could, your time in the week spent busy with the Art College you had enrolled in. Alba sometimes tagging along when you bribed her with snacks.

As promised you were there when she scored her first professional goal, her beaming smile sent directly to you and Jaume in the stands, stood cheering for her. You witnessed her wide eyes, after the game, as you stood waiting for your celebratory hug and maybe a cheeky kiss, when she was stopped by a little hand. “Hola.” the small girl had to crane her neck to look up at your girlfriend. She was shaking with excitement. “Hola?” she replied, confused. “Can I have your autograph por favour?” she asked, sweetly. Alexia just stood there, like a sim. 

You stepped forward with your notepad and drawing pencil that you carry everywhere, you had more drawings of inside a football stadium than anyone would need. You ripped out a page and handed Ale the pencil. “Of…of course?” She scribbled down her autograph for the young girl who beamed and ran away holding it above her head to show her mami who picked her up in glee. Alexia's wide eyes stared at you. “Did you see that?” “I saw that bebe, I handed you the pencil. I also saw your goal, superstar!” You couldn’t control your grin, which was mirrored by your girlfriend. “You played so well! Alex!” You're interrupted as she drags you over the fencing and pulls you into a bear hug. Her face nuzzled into your neck, her body vibrating with excitement. “I scored for you conejito!” she says “Well, hija, I won’t be offended, I have only been to every game you’ve played for 10 years” Jaume appears above you both still in the stands, smiling teasing his lips. “And you papa!” she releases you and pulls her papa into a hug. Dragging you back in after a moment before declaring that her first goal means that she deserves pizza and ice cream courtesy of her papa. 

Through the summer and the fall We had each other, that was all Just she and I together Like it was meant to be

You finished your college course and your love for art had never died. You made the trip to Valencia wherever possible to see Alex and she came back to Barna at least once a month to see her family and you on an off weekend. You would spend those weekends living at Alexias house, soaking up every moment together as much as possible. 

She would bring her clothes home for Eli to wash as she was useless at anything practical. You would make sure that you would always snag a sweater of hers before it was washed and keep hold of it, soaking in her scent before you could swap it out again. Alexia, used to pretend she hated it, they would always be returned with paint stains around the cuffs which would harden and she said irritated her skin.  You tried to be more careful but you didn’t stop stealing them.

You saw the same amount of her family as before she moved away, your lives had been so intrinsically linked that you had become an honorary Putellas, and she was a part of your family. You hung around with Alba and you helped Eli with her shopping when her car broke down. You were family.

Weirdly enough, it was you that met Alexia's future best friend first. After college, you started to make money from your art by being a live artist at weddings.

You knew your parents were worried about what you would do with your art. Teaching was the obvious choice but with your speech issues, it was your idea of hell.

This was perfect.

It was a niche business but you got paid well and you loved it. You got to go to weddings for a job. You got to capture people's joy on the most important day of their lives.  You would sit in the corner with an easel set up, sketching and painting guests, the dance floor, the top table. And you could immediately give your paintings to the couple and their guests, the validation was enormous, you were good at what you did. Discreet and professional.

You soon get a client list for miles and the money starts to pour in.

It was at one of these weddings that you met Mapi. She caught your eye during the speeches and you started to draw her outline. She was clearly very very gay at a very straight wedding. But it wasn’t just that that caught your eye, her tattoos intrigued you. And you loved sketching them and adding hints of colour here and there.

She looked up at you and caught you sketching, as guests often would, you were able to not let it distract you, ever the professional you offered a gentle smile.

“You like football?” a heavily accented voice reached your ears as you were adding the finishing touches to the dancefloor scene that was set out before you.

“Que?” It wasn’t often that guests interacted with you, but sometimes it happened.

“Your bag, FC Barcelona? That's not usual for a pretty girl like you, to like football.”

“Ah, Si.” You reply, your eyes not moving from your painting. “It’s my girlfriends.” you reply, emphasising your relationship status, not wanting a moment of confusion.

“Ah, boo, you have ruined my fun.” She replies, “Maria Leon '' She introduces herself, hand out for you to shake, you don’t take her hand, handing your paint-y hands up. She holds her hands up in surrender. “I see, I see. FC Barcelona though. Good team. No women's team though.”

“No, but there will be, and my girlfriend will be their top scorer when it happens”  you reply confidently. “You seem so sure?” “I am.” She lets out a laugh. “I can’t argue with that, then I will be their best defender” she offers a huge smile. Mapis smile is magic and makes you smile.

You and Mapi become firm friends. She talks. And talks and talks and talks. You don’t know how she has so much to say. But she is fun and she is kind. Your stutter makes an appearance as it sometimes does but it is perfectly offset by her inability to stop yapping. You don’t feel a pressure to fill the silence because you know she will. 

Years later, at a supercup final, you will both laugh about your first conversation. About how both of your statements came true. Turns out, people paid well for authentic paintings of their favourite moments. And as a young adult you found yourself with enough money to get yourself a small apartment in Mollet. You loved it. And you loved the independence it brought you. You think that was the happiest time of your life. You would spend days on your sun drenched terracotta tiled balcony. Painting watercolour and sketching the scenes both in your mind and your view over the square that your apartment was on. You had quite the online following and would get some commissions for your art which brought you a sense of purpose and joy. The absolute best time was when Alexia had a free weekend, or a break, she would stay with you and you would live in domestic bliss. It was an unspoken agreement. No question that she would make her base for her time back at your apartment. Even when she wasn’t there you wouldn’t sleep on her side of the bed. More of her clothes made their way into your closet. More of her sweaters would get paint marks on them. You would cook together, sing together, dance together in your small kitchenette. Feeling happy and in love as only young people can. Nothing gets between you. Training had been kind to your girlfriend, and you struggled to keep your eyes off her as she would do basic tasks. She was thick. For want of a better word. Her gangly limbs had become pure muscle, her back would ripple when putting on a t-shirt, you would find yourself staring at her forearms as she would cut vegetables. She knew what she did to you and she loved it. Often sending a wink your was and sending you into more of a stuttering mess then usual, heat climbing to your face. You felt your heart grow as you would go shopping for groceries together. Take strolls in the square, you sitting on a bench and sketching as she inevitably got herself involved in a football game with the local kids. Her favourite time of day would be Friday nights. Often, if she was lucky, she would be scheduled an early kick off on fridays. You would travel back from the game together with her papi. You took the backseat as you knew you would monopolise her time back all weekend. Giving her a chance to catch up with her family. You would get home, she would shower whilst you made a light dinner, both taking it in on the balcony before moving inside and settling on the couch. She would put on some illegally screened recordings of the game she had played in. But she would mute it as she pulled you into her chest. You would have a sketchbook in hand and continue working on your art, or a piece from a wedding that needed finishing up. You always told her the commentary wouldn’t distract you. But she insisted. Once finally saying, “I like the sound of your pencil, it soothes me, and sometimes you trace the sketch on my leg with your free hand. It gives me goosebumps. I like it.” you never asked again. You argued, of course, like any couple did. But it never lasted long. Alex would get angry when she would find paint in the sink, and you would struggle to share your space at first. But you never went to bed in a fight. Even if you tried to be stubborn your body would fail you and you would gravitate towards her in the moments before sleep, muttering your apologies or forgiveness. In those early days of young adulthood it would be the only time in your relationship where you had more money than Alex. 

Football did not pay well. It did not pay a living wage. 

You didn’t care. 

You felt privileged every time you scanned your card for the groceries, or paid for dinner on a date. You knew she hated it though. “One day conejito, I will give you everything life can offer, I promise” she would whisper into your skin whilst she tried to make it up to you in other ways. You would always tell her you had everything you needed right there with you. It was perfect. Life was perfect. You had friends, a stable job, the love of your life. Yes, distance was hard, yes, each time she left you would cry and hold her tighter to you, but you knew it wasn’t forever, and you never felt that distance in your relationship. You grew together, like a plant, your love was carefully cultivated in experiences and shared memories.

And when she was lonely I was there to comfort her And I knew that she loved me

You had never felt sadness like it. It was all encompassing. You couldn’t get away from it. You were sad for your chosen family. You were sad for your own family. You were sad for yourself. But you were devastated for your girlfriend. You didn’t know what to do with so much sadness. You couldn’t hold it in, but you couldn’t let it out. You needed to be strong for your girlfriend. Who was walking around as a shell of the person that you knew her to be. Well, that was when she was walking, she would throw herself into her childhood bedroom and stay there silently for hours. You would be okay with it if she was sleeping, but she just stared at the wall aimlessly. Her Papa was her inspiration. The reason she got into football. She would look up to him even as she towered over him. And it was so so cruel that he had been taken away from her in such a manner. A week after Jamues passing you found yourself next to Alexia at his funeral. It was a beautiful affair, a celebration of the life of a man who loved hard and was loved hard. The morning had been difficult, you had ironed Alexia's dress and set it out for her. She took your instruction like a small child, you brushed her hair straight and pulled it out from her face. You struggled to speak. Such immense grief you felt the words became garbled in your mouth, rendering you mute. But you didn’t want any pressure on Alexia. 

You knew when your stutter made an appearance she would drop everything, concentrate on doing your exercises with you, hand automatically cupping your jaw and massaging the soft area beneath your ear because she knew that relaxed your facial muscles. So you both moved around silently. That morning. As you guided her around what needed to be done. As you packed her bag with tissues you hoped that you needed to use them. You hadn’t seen her cry since she rushed home from Valencia to the news. So no, you didn’t know what to do with your grief. You loved him too. He was the first person you had loved and lost. You had your own special relationship built from long car journeys and shared snacks. He would put your art on his fridge like you were one of his own. He was kind and he was half of the person who you loved to your core. God. If you felt like this. You don’t know how Alexia was still breathing. You had been spending all week as the Putellas household. Not leaving Alex's side. But also not leaving Alba, who would lean heavily into you of an evening, seemingly crying all of the tears that her sister couldn’t. It felt healthy though, through the tears you could share memories and make her laugh. You would go to bed with Alex and the silence would continue. When you were sure she was asleep you would sneak out of bed and grab your sketch pad, settle into the corner of the room and just let it out. Her dad told you once at a game how his father worked as a coal miner. He said it proudly, he adored hard work. That's where Alexia got her devotion from. It was a passing moment, a memory that you didn't even know you had. But it stuck with you as you went into the Putellas garden and took a lump of coal from the barbeque and settled yourself into the dewey grass. Hand not stopping over your sketchpad and tears rolling down your cheeks.

The night after the funeral you stayed at your own parents house. You couldn’t handle the loneliness of your own apartment. You didn’t want to intrude at the Putellas residence, and you hoped that maybe some time with her family would be what Alexia needed to open up. You were right, but not in the way you imagined. A soft clink, clink, clink, woke you up, This time you were not frightened. You had heard this noise before. You immediately jumped out of bed and ran to your window, showing it open and shoving your head out. “Alex! What are you doing here, why didn’t you use your key?” The brunette looked up at you with sad eyes, you saw she was in her pyjamas, eyes sideways showing no car, she had walked here. “I forgot it.” she let out, morosely. “Oh mi amor, no p..p..problem, hold on I will come down and let you in.” before you had a chance to bring your body back into the house you heard her again, “You left me.” your heart cracked into two. You didn’t reply but instead hurried downstairs into the moonlit garden. She stood there, with all her muscle and height, looking everything like a toddler who was lost in a supermarket. You took her hand in yours and used your other to cup her cheek. “Oh, mi amor I didn’t leave you, I thought you wanted some space.” Maybe you expected her to agree, maybe you expected her to disagree and shout at you for getting it so wrong. You didnt realise that you were to her, like an umbrella in the rain, protecting her from the downpour. With you gone she drowned in the grief. You didn’t expect her lip to tremble and her to burst into tears. “I want my papa.”  Those 4 words broke your heart as you huddled her into your arms, rocking lightly to bring her confort. There was nothing you could say, you just brought her into your bed and held her as she cried, painting her skin with whispers of your love “I know, bebe, I know, I promise it’ll pass, I promise, and I will be here. The pain will go. It will pass Alex and I will be here.” It became a mantra that you whispered into her skin.

As she calmed down you took a moment to think. As you got out of bed and she groaned in annoyance you hushed her with your lips to her skin. “Un momento, mi amor, I have something for you.”

You presented it nervously, unsure of the reaction you would get.

It was a framed picture that you had created. Not like your usual artwork as it was made from coal. Coal from the Putellas barbecue to be exact. It was a sketch of a man in the stands of a football stadium, somehow, eyes beaming with pride, laugh lines visible on his face. A footballer with a long ponytail and similar features jumping into his arms.

It was a scene you had witnessed hundreds of times throughout the years. You didn’t need to see it again to create it. The coal added a haunting and beautiful dimension to it. When you explained your reasoning Alexia looked deeply into your eyes. Holding onto the frame with white knuckles like her life depended on it.

“I love you.” 

And when Alexia scored and helped her team to win the U19 Championship for her country not 3 weeks later. Celebrating with eyes to the sky, fingers pointed. You knew that, eventually, she would be okay. 

So the years went by I stayed the same But she began to drift away I was left alone Still, I waited for the day When she'd say, "I will always love you"

It was as though it had been destined for years but finally finally the news came that Barcelona FC would have a women's team. Mapi had texted you with glee when the news broke out, she knew that she was stuck in her own contract but the fact it existed made it a possibility for her dreams to come true. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, was a free agent. You thought, privately, that even if she wasn't a free agent that she would break every law on planet earth to play for her childhood club. She was offered a contract and signed without any hesitation. A mist in her eyes at the missing presence in her signing photos. You drove with Alba to collect her and all her things from a year in Valencia directly to your apartment. As you unpacked her stuff, Alba on a food run with money you had shoved into her hand, your small flat suddenly felt full. “Alex,” You called, from the living room, you heard her shuffle around and pop her head into the bedroom where you stood, surrounded by boxes. “Si, conejito?” she asked, breathlessly. You took in her smile, that you had missed over the months, the light in her eyes, the ease of her movements. “I am just asking, I don’t actually remember asking you to move in?” You say, teasingly, gesturing to her boxes surrounding you. It was true, you hadn’t, it had just been assumed by both of you, as well as both of your families. A blush rose up her neck, “I mean… I-i-..”. You burst out laughing. “I am just teasing you”. A glint in her eyes took over and you had half a second to brace yourself before you were tackled by an almost 6ft wall of muscle. You landed gently on the bed with a thump. “Well, light of my life. I think it’s too late for that. Maybe I can make up for my rudeness.” Her voice takes on a sultry tone, attacking your neck with kisses, making you groan. “No, No, No, No, stop it you two! Why is this my life!” Well. Alba was back, You groaned as Alexias full body weight fell onto you as she heard her sister. You had a feeling you both had plenty of time to make up for it. Living with Alexia full time was natural. You had obviously had practice from the year she spent in Valencia but you didn’t realise how easy it would be. You knew where to step to not fall over her boots in the hallway without looking. 

You amended your grocery show to include all her weird protein-packed foods. She would help you get ready for work in your evening gowns that you had to wear to fit in at the weddings, and she would stay up to make sure you got home safe and listened as you babbled on about your favourite parts, all the while taking it in for ideas for your own wedding. You continued to make money at weddings, Alexia rose through the ranks at the new Barcelona Femini team. Quickly establishing herself as a calm and serious captain. 

She took her role seriously,  she would study games religiously at home as you would paint or sketch. Your easel set up in the living room or on the balcony. She would rub your shoulders as you painted, eyes set on the TV at the game. The shared time doing your own activities matched you both perfectly. And just like that, years passed. Years in domestic bliss. Spent together and with your families. Vacations in Ibiza and even a pet cat called Pablo Petcatso, or Pabs for short, entered your little family unit. He was a ginger cat who loved a cuddle and loved getting into Alexia's kit bag, he even made it to the training once or twice, and you had to drive over there to pick him back up. Dragging him away from 22 cooing footballers. 

Women's football grew, as did Alexia's paycheck. And with that, you think, looking back, as did the cracks in your relationship.

“We're here!” Alexias excited voice explained, you had pulled up outside a tall apartment building in the centre of Barcelona. She hadn’t shared with you where you were going. Insisting it needed to be a surprise.

“And where is here?” you looked up at the towering glass building above you, you didn’t come into the city much, you preferred the quiet of your suburb.

“You’ll see, you’ll see!” Her excitement was catching, and you found yourself giddy as the elevator took you further into the skies of the city.

“Ta-da!” She presents a huge open plan space before you, the glass fronted living room has views over the city to the sea. You could count at least 3 bedrooms from where you stood in the hallway. The kitchen was sleek, straight lines and clean granite. 

“What is this place?” you ask, confused, taking in your surroundings. “It's our new apartment!” What? “What?” you breathe out. “Don’t you love it?!” Alexia remains giddy, her excitement not fading and she fails to notice your unenthused reaction. Your mind whirred. “Come look, come look!” she grabbed your hand, and pulled you further into the apartment. Proudly presenting each room to you. “And this room. I thought you could have it as your art studio!” “Art studio?” you whisper. “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool, and so much space. Now I wont get cross at you for getting paint all over the kitchen! Pabs will have so much room to explore!” She turns around and pulls you into her embrace, you are still shellshocked at everything presented to you. “I promised you, didn’t I? I would give you the world conejito.” Her eyes are so bright with joy, the smile so wide on her face, you couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the sleek lines, the large space, and the modern kitchen were beautiful. You didn’t see it for yourself, you preferred your terracotta tiled balcony and your plants overtaking your kitchenette. You loved painting in your living room when Alexia would watch a match. Pabs crawling over your shoulders, your little bubble with your family. But you could see how proud Alex was of herself, of what she had achieved. You must have taken a moment too long, as her eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it.” you said, plainly, “No… No Alex, I do! I was just so surprised. I love it, and I love you.” “Yeah?” her eyes brighten again. You kiss her lips softly, “Yeah.” “Good! And think conejito, maybe one day there would be room for a bigger family?” she asks, shyly. Your heart melted as you nodded frantically and threw yourself into her embrace. As Alexia's career grew, so did the pressure on her. She was often away, it was something your whole relationship had survived, but now, being away with both club and country, as well as in an apartment that had never truly felt like home. You felt lonely. You would come home from weddings with only Pabs to greet you, you would create art in your studio without the background noise of Alexia watching a game, or preparing a smoothie. She would do that in the living area. Nights together were rarer. Your love never dimmed. Alexia showed you in her every movement that she adored you. Date nights, whilst few and far between, were the highlight of your week. Though that soon became the highlight of your month. The one saving grace during this time was that Mapi had finally joined Barcelona Femini and you took it on yourself to be her personal Barcelona guide. As Alexia's fame grew, you shied more into the background. You weren't an extrovert. You would never hide your relationship and you never asked Alexia to but the only social media that you had was that to promote your artwork. Meanwhile, Alexia's followers grew and grew. A few crazed fans had deep dived into her archives and knew of you but that was only a portion of the fanbase. She hated the delving into her private life, and that caused her to stop posting anything of you onto her public accounts. Any trace of you, gone. Before being a footballer, in Alex’ mind, she was your protector, that hadn’t changed from 15 years ago. With 2021 came great change. All of the years of dreams and hard work had paid off and Barca had reached the champions league final. You travelled to Gothenburg with Eli and Alba, a nervousness in your stomach more than usual. For both your girlfriend and your best friend. You celebrated the win with a euphoria you had rarely felt. Everything felt worth it. The lonely nights, the travel around the country, the sacrifices you had to make as the partner of La Reina.

And as she pulled you into her arms after the final whistle, and pulled you over the barricade the same way she did when she scored her first professional goal your heart couldn’t swell more with pride. You don’t want to say that Alexia changed after the Ballon D’or. Because she didn’t. Well, maybe she did, she suddenly sported bright blonde locks which, you admit was sexy, but you missed the softness her natural hair gave her face. By the second Ballon D’or you thought maybe it was you that changed. Maybe it was you that put up a barrier. One that couldn’t be identified easily. But with study it could be noticed. The problem was that Alex wasn’t there to notice. Yeah, you were together, you did things together, you made love and you made memories. You went back to Mollet regularly and ate with your families and you went to games with Alba.  But Alexia was busy. She had brand deals, she had interviews, she had achieved her dream of being the best footballer in the world. You knew she was since you were 12. But now the world knew too. And the world wanted her attention. 

Oftentimes she was exhausted when she got home. She didn’t want to cuddle on the couch. She didn't want to walk around the plaza. She didn’t want to hear about your day. She would ask, but you could tell her mind was elsewhere, in some contract somewhere, so you started to lie. To give answers which would satisfy her without arousing suspicion. Always trying to put her ease first. 

You would decline for nights out with her teammates, you even lied once or twice and said you had a wedding to paint, just to avoid suspicion. Alexia would take your answer as the truth, and kiss your cheek lightly as she left the apartment which quickly felt like it had become your prison. Mapi could see through you. She would try to get you to talk, but she was Alexia's team mate. Alex was her captain. It didn’t feel right to discuss your relationship issues with her. Not when you wouldn’t even talk to the woman in question about it. You found yourself in the familiar seats of the Johan Cryuff stadium taking in the first home game of the new season. Alba and Eli by your side. The first game was always a family affair. With the Putellas cousins in attendance, a restaurant booked for this evening for you all. It was an easy win for the Champions of Europe. And as you stood with Mapi and her new girlfriend Ingrid at the end of the match chatting, Patri bounded over, sweat on her brow and joy in her eyes. “Hola Senora La Reina” she teased you, kissing your cheek, you had been around the team so much that they all knew you well. “Ay, Idiota, hands off” and large, familiar hands wrapped around your middle, a kiss planted to your other cheek as you melted into her embrace. “Congrats bebe” you muttered, craning you neck you see her looking down at you with a smile. “Senora Reina, you’ll come out for drinks with us to celebrate the win, won’t you?” Parti asked, full of joy. 

The attention of the 4 footballers on you suddenly unsettled you. Maybe it was the busy environment. Maybe it was being with Ingrid who you’d only met a few times. Maybe it was Alexias hands around you for the first time in what felt like months. But you struggled to get your words out. “Ah, gra…grac…gracias  for the invite diablo, but m…m…me…” “She’s coming out with mi familia Patri, it’s tradition! You know that! Vamos, I will come out quickly for a drink then join you all, conejito” Alexia interrupted you, planted a final kiss on your cheek and headed to the changing rooms. She didn’t feel you freeze in her embrace. She didn’t see Patri and Mapis expressions change. She didn’t see Ingrid's look of confusion. You felt sick. You felt like you were about to burst into tears. Your throat burned and you struggled to swallow. 

You felt small. You shuffled your feet on the ground and looked up to see Mapis' face had grown furious, her girlfriend's arm had come to rest over her shoulders, trying to settle her but unsure why. You went straight into damage control. Alexia has protected you your entire life. She had never interrupted you, she knew you couldn’t stand when people would finish your sentences. It was the worst thing you could do to someone with a stutter. She knew that. You don’t know why Alexia's endless patience ran out that day. But you knew you wanted to protect her from your best friend's rage. You knew it would happen one day, you just wish it had happened without any witnesses. For both of your sakes. “Mapi, it's fine.” “It is not fine!” Patri backs away from the situation with a kiss to your cheek and an apologetic look. “I don’t know what's wrong with her lately. I am going to kill her…” she moves towards the changing rooms but you pause her with a soft hand. “Maps, please don’t. It’s f…f…okay. I am okay. Ju…just go get changed and go on your night out. I will t..text you tomorrow. Please.” You look to Ingrid for help, you don’t know her well but she has the power over Mapi seemingly, and as she guides her to the changing rooms the small Spaniard seems to settle down. 

Not enough though, apparently, because as soon as she sees her captain again, a flicker of that rage comes back to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” Mapi hisses to her captain, “Maria, stop” Ingrid tugged her by the elbow, trying to take her away. Alexia looked up from her phone with a look of indignation, yes she was Mapis friend but she was still her captain, and they were in front of the whole team. Her defensive wall immediately came up. “Discuple?” Her eyes cast across the changing room, their team mates continued to get changed and pretended they weren’t eaves dropping into the mini argument that had developed.

“I said, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mapi spat out. “Why did you interrupt her?” Something in Alexia's stomach dropped. Her hands become clammy, her body reacting to the accusation before her mind could. “What? I didn’t. I would never.” she whispers in reply, but more to herself. “No, No I didn't.” she said more surely, somewhat desperately. 

Mapi takes in her best friend's demeanour, the usually stoic and strong captain looked devastated, maybe even petrified? Mapi knew what she had done, but could see that Alexia would punish herself more than Mapi ever could. She stepped away, guided by Ingrid. Leaving Alexia to replay the last 10 minutes, desperately. Mapi saw the moment that realisation came to the Catalan Captain, as she bolted out of the changing room, hair damp, throwing her shirt on as she sprinted back into the stadium. Which is where she found you, moments later. You were sitting in the friends and family section, Alexias new baby cousin settled onto your knee, playing with your hands and babbling to himself. You made cooing noises and spoke softly to him and all her Tias and Tios got rounded up for your meal out. You felt her presence behind you, you could practically feel her anxiety coming off her in waves. You looked back quickly and confirmed your suspicions, her blonde hair damp and wetting her shoulders, her foot twisting against the concrete floor, hands knotted together and bottom lip drawn into her lip, chewing anxiously. “It’s fine Alex.” you said, as you turned, attention back on the baby in your lap. She must have seen this acknowledgement as her body surged towards you, she loudly collapsed into the seat next to you, the anxiety coming off her in waves. “Conej…” she started. “No Alex, I pr…pr… I swear. It’s okay. But I’m currently holding the ba…bab…ba… child.” you take a sigh. “I am holding the child and I don’t want to cry so p…please. It’s okay.” If it's possible. She looked even more devastated. Her whole face collapsed. She hated when you would revert to old techniques to speak, by changing up your words mid sentence. Alexia was your protector. It was her proudest badge. Before she was a footballer, in her mind, she was your partner. And she had let you down. She had done the worst thing she could have done. To an outsider Alexia's moment of impatience may have been a minor indiscretion at most. But to you? To Alex? It was the basis of your whole relationship. You felt safe with her. You had a voice, she said, all those years ago when you fell in love, and you deserved to be heard. And now she has brought that into question. “Can I touch you?” she asked, gently. This brought tears to your eyes and you nodded, whilst still entertaining the baby in your lap with coo’s and a false smile. She touched your knee, the heat of her hand bleeding into your skin. “You don’t need to mask in front of me y/f/n.” Alexia never used your name. “Please. Use the words you want to use. I am here to listen. Always.” You are interrupted as Alexias Tia comes to claim her baby, who you hand back with a last pat on the stomach and raspberry to the cheek. You are trying to avoid the next 5 minutes you know will happen. Alexia is somewhat rude when her Tia offers her congratulations, eyes boreing into your head. You sweep your hair back as you face her, having had a moment to think you get your words out easier. “Alex, it’s okay. It was bound to happen one day. Don’t worry about it. Please. Go out with your friends. I will go to the meal as planned. I promise. Alba will drive me home later.” “No.” Alexia says desperately, clutching your hand in hers, “Let’s just go home, amor. Please.” “Ale I made a promise to your mami. I am going to eat. I will see you later.” you press a kiss to her cheek and wander off towards her family.  As she stands, watching you interact with her sister and her mami, her teammates call her over. She feels torn. She just wants to go home with you. She just wants to wrap you up in cotton wool and keep you in her arms. Safe. But you don’t want that right now, so she turns to do as instructed. Throwing one more glance your way, missing Albas worried face as she wipes a tear from your cheek.

Lonely and forgotten Never thought she'd look my way And she smiled at me and held me Just like she used to do Like she loved me When she loved me

You came home early. You asked if Alba could drop you off as soon as you had finished your meal. She was happy to oblige, worried about your silence the entire meal. You were looking down at your phone as you entered your apartment. Assuring Mapi again that you were fine and she should enjoy her drinks. You go to flick on the light in the living area when a stream of light below the door of your studio distracts you. You push the door open cautiously and see Alexia standing there, looking at your work in progress. It was different to your usual work. A close up sketch of a hand, wrapped around a flower, tenderly, it was in the early stages, you could see the lines of the palm and the blades of grass in the field behind. It was mounted onto canvas on your easel and the splashes of colour you had started to add contrasted against the paleness of the room. She hadn’t heard you enter, too lost in the image before her, but Pabs making a run for the door as it opened brought her attention to you. As you stand there, under her gaze, you struggle to remember the last time you saw Alexia in your studio. Yeah she would bob in to let you know dinner was ready, or that she was heading out, but she didn’t come in often enough to take in your work anymore. Now it wasn’t forced on her in the living space. It seemed Alexia had the same realisation as she broke her gaze with you and gestured towards your painting, and then further, to your desk overlooking the window, where more of your work lay. “You’re amazing. I didn’t… I.” a deep breath. “I hadn’t forgotten but I think I… Got lost? Somewhere along the way?” you tilt your head curiously. You don’t know what she’s talking about. “I have been a bad partner to you.” 

“Alex…” “No. I have. And I’m not interrupting you but I won’t let you lie to protect me.” her eyes go again to your easel. “You’re amazing. You are so talented. You are filled with so much kindness. You deserve so much more than this.” her eyes fill with tears and she looks at you. “I tried. You know? I promise I did. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought this,” she gestures towards you and around you “was what you deserved. And it is. But more than that you deserve everything.” She takes a step towards you and grasps your hands with hers, her hands are cold, you note. As you take her in you see dried tear tracks down her cheeks, and… damp hair. “Alexia, did you not go out with the team?” “How do you think that I could go out with the team after what I did?” she asks, aghast. The reminder of the way the evening went washes over you. Alexia panics when she sees your eyes fill with tears. And she pulls you into her chest. “I am so, so sorry mi amor. I am so sorry” she whispers into your hair. “I have broken something sacred between us. And I will never forgive myself.” she swears to you. Though that doesnt bring you any joy. “I forgive you Alex.” she shakes her head in despair, joining you in tears. “You said it was bound to happen someday,” she starts, “Do not think like that amor. It was not. This is not your fault. In any way. It is mine. Please don’t think that, you deserve to be heard. I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will never do it again, promesa.”  All you can do is nod into her chest.

She pulls you from the room and settles you both into the sofa, keeping the light off, only the skyline of the city illuminating your living room through the large, glassed wall. 

She lets you cry into her t-shirt, soaking it more than her damp hair, and through the darkness you pull away and take in her face, she looks youthful. Gone, the professional make up, the expensive jewellery, and hair darkened by the dampness from her shower. You take in a large choked breath. “We need to talk.” you let out. Fear takes over her features and she starts to shake her head. “No, Mi Conejito please no, don’t do this.” she wails. It is a heart wrenching sound. She thinks she's going to be sick. “Woah, woah, woah” you place your hands on her cheeks and pull her panicked eyes to yours; “Mi amor I am not breaking up with you.” you state, clearly. “I am not. Now breathe with me.” Her eyes steady from their darting around the room in fear, and you place your hand on her chest, making her breathe with you. “Okay, okay… okay. Yes, please. Talk to me.” she begs, trying to get oxygen back into her lungs.  “I feel alone. I feel… sa…sad. A lot of the time. And I know… you y…you aren’t doing it on pur…purpose.” Your girlfriend looks heartbroken. Like she had just found out her entire family had died. But refuses to interrupt you as you speak. But you have needed this conversation for so long, that the words start to tumble out of you. Getting lodged in your throat. Har large hand comes up to that familiar place, and massages the soft tissue behind your jaw. Trying to help you without interrupting. “You aren’t doing it on purpose.” you repeat. She pauses for a moment and doesn't ask what you thought she would. “Why am I making you anxious?” she asks, cutting through your thoughts. You move away from her and settle your elbows to your knees. Rubbing your face as you feel a large hand settle onto your back. You hated your stutter. You hated that it ruled your life, but most of all you hated how it exposed you. You were like a child who can’t hide a blush in front of their crush. “You aren’t, Alexia.” “Alex.” she corrects, “I am Alex to you” she insists, “your Alex. It’s just me, mi amor.” she looks at you desperately. “I feel alone, you are never here, and when you are here physically, you aren’t here in your head. Your head is in the clouds, it is with your agent, with your coach, it is not with me.” you’ve started now, so you won’t be able to stop yourself “it is me and Pabs and, even though you're dumb as bricks bebe, you're a better conversationalist than him” you try to joke, a half smile on your face. Which she matches, hand not stopping her ministrations on your back. 

“I cannot remember the last time we just sat together, the last time that we cooked together. Can you Alex?” you don’t receive a reply, 

“I haven’t had your eyes, look at me, really look at me for months. You give your time so easily to those around you, your team mates, people I see you out with at events. I can’t blame you, this is what you always dreamed of. But… I miss you.” Your speech is strong now; “and I love you. That will never change. But you need to know how I am feeling. So it's fair to you. I feel as though you are bigger than the world. And I am just the girl you saved in the art room.” She is openly crying now. “Don’t say that, you are everything” she mumbled, through tears. 

She knew that she had been busy. But she didn’t realise the damage that she had done. She had been to events, you had been at her side. But. When was the last time she asked about a wedding you’d worked? God, you used to sit for hours describing the beautiful scenes, and she’d store away ideas for your own wedding.  The last gallery you had shown at? When had she last visited your mami and papi, who had been there for her her entire life? She kept you off social media for your protection, but she didn’t mean to erase you. When had she become so god damn selfish. “Amor, I think that somewhere along the way, I had forgotten, and forgotten to remind you. There are more important things than football. Well. Football is second”.

You are thrown back to a memory, a school championship 15 years ago, sat on the bleachers watching your school get destroyed. The lanky football captain sat by your side. You can’t help it but tears fill your eyes. You missed her. That girl. The one you were and the one she was. “But.. you told me once, that I could have both.” she whispered, into your neck, “and you can, Alex. Of course you can. But you have to want both. And at the moment. It feels. It feels like you don’t want me.” “No! Mi Amor, Mi Vida, Mi Conejito. You are everything. Eres mi mundo. I am nothing without you.” she takes a breath, deep and shuddering. “I will fix this. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I have a chance to fix this. Si?” she asks, desperately. You nod, “Of course Alex, and it's for both of us to fix, I should have said something sooner.” She refuses your admittance of guilt and drags you into bed. She sticks to you like a second skin. Moves with you to brush your teeth. Standing waiting whilst you use the toilet. She places a fresh glass of water on your bedside table.You want to tell her to give you a bit of space, but the fear in her eyes prevents you from doing so. As soon as you crawl into your side of the bed she has pulled you into her embrace and the warmth that fills you goes beyond the shared body heat. For the first time in a long time, you wake up in the strong arms of Alexia. She hasn’t moved in the night an inch, and you take a moment to take her in. This is what you missed. Just breathing the same air as her. Just existing in the same space. As though she can feel you looking at her she begins to stir. Taking a moment to come to her senses, her arms grip you tighter around your waist. “Hola, Mi amor” she whispers into the air. Your response is a kiss to her lips, which she steals, hungrily. As you deepen the kiss you feel her begin to pull away. “Lo siento, mi amor, we cannot get carried away. Things to do.” your heart hurts again. You roll off the taller girl and reach for your phone as a distraction. 

You thought, maybe, just maybe, for today at least. You would spend the day together. “Things to do!” she repeats, jumping out of bed with glee. “Where’s your passport”. That grabs your attention. “Que?” you ask, confusingly. “Your passport amor, Vamos!” She had long ago left the bed, and had started moving around the room, picking up various bags which had definitely not been there when you went to bed and moving them into the hallway. She was like a ball of energy, she stripped off her oversized t-shirt she had worn to bed, leaving her standing in just her boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight. Well, you think, at least all the time not spent with you was doing something good. You find yourself in a trance, practically salivating at your view.

A change of clothes being thrown at your head brings you out of your stupor. “Dressed. Go.” Alexia teases you, definitely having caught you starting. This makes you finally start to move as you shrug on the jogging bottoms and hoodie she threw at you. Happily, you note, it's one of hers that you’ve already destroyed with paint marks on the cuffs. “Why do you need my passport Alex? What's with the bags?” “We’re going on vacation!” That stops you, half in, and half out of your hoodie. Getting yourself stuck. “Vacation?” you ask, voice muffled by the fabric. You hear Alexia make her way over to you, then feel her gently pull you free from your fabric prison. “Si…” she gently tells you. A look overcomes her face which you can’t distinguish, then she kisses your nose, softly. “Vacation. Just me and you amor.”

“But what about work?” you ask, still catching up. “You don’t have anything booked for 6 days, I checked your calendar. And where we are going, you can bring all your art things if you need them. I’ve packed the basics in my carry-on already.” “Not my work. Alex, your work. You have a busy week.” at this point you seem to have lost her attention as she turns to your question dismissively. “I cancelled it.” she replies, simply. “You cancelled it.” you repeat. “Si.” “Alexia! Have you lost your mind! You have training, you have that meeting with Oakley - you have the pre-euros media to do! You have a game in 3 days”  you reel off her calendar, watching as she continues to dress and pack her toiletries. She heaves out a sigh and turns back to you.

“Conejito, I know what I had, you don’t need to tell me I have just spent all night cancelling all of them. I spoke to Jona and he’s happy for me to miss the game. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” she moves closer to you again, “So no, I have not lost my mind. But, I did almost lose you, so please. Please tell me where your passport is so we can get on the plane I booked. Mapi will be here in a moment to take Pabs for the week.”  You find yourself standing there, stunned. She seemingly had thought of everything. You look into the hall at the bags packed there ready to go. Pabs sniffed them curiously. She’s looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. There's nothing else for you to do you suppose. As you turn from her and open your bedside table,  a smile can’t be kept off your face, you turn triumphantly with your passport held high. “Voila!” you present it to her; “What are you waiting for then Alex! We've got a plane to catch!” as you scurry out of the room and you hear the front door knock. Alexias cackle behind you. Alexia was always full of surprises when she wanted to be and she remained tight lipped all the way to the airport, refusing to tell you your destination. 

You assumed it would be one of the islands somewhere, with the size of her luggage maybe somewhere farther afield, sun, sea and a pool somewhere promised. But she shocked you. When you got to the check in desk and realised you were flying to Switzerland you could have been knocked down with a feather. Your Alex, who was upset when she even had to wear a bikini top in the month of August, has booked for you to go to Switzerland? 

She ignored your curious stare and just continued to sweet talk the check in lady, upgrading you to business class. As you descended hours later, between the snow peaked mountains against a stunning orange sun you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your hands itched to claim the sketch book from Alexias carry on. Soon, after collecting your luggage and Alexia picking up a hire car that has also been pre booked (seriously did this girl sleep at all the night before?), you found yourself being driven through a mountain forest, as a lodge that seemed to cling to the mountainside came into view, isolated and beautiful. You stood on the wooden balcony, hands gripping a warm drink as you took in the view of the sun setting behind the mountains. “Look at that, Amor.” you felt, more than heard, whispered against your ear. Lips planting a kiss at your jaw as strong hands settle over your stomach. 

You fell back into her embrace. “It’s so beautiful.” you replied, eyes focused on the scene before you. “I saw this advert. Months ago.” she continued. “Just in the back of a catalogue at work. They will have the Euros near here, you know, 2025?” That made you snort with laughter. “Ah, I see Putellas, now it makes sense how you’ve been dragged from the beach, scoping out the environment are we? Anything for that competitive edge.” your teasing is clear in your voice. 

You feel a pinch on your stomach, “No, idiota,” though the laugh is clear in her voice. “I saw that advert and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It is so beautiful here.” you hum in agreement, “But what I could not get out of my head was that I wanted you to see it. I love seeing the world through your eyes.” 

She turns you in her embrace and she places a gentle kiss to your forehead as you feel her breathe you in. “You see things so beautifully, Amor, and then you paint them for the world to see. You are so special.” Your heart melts at the blonde, and you feel some of the despair that had settled into your stomach over the last months shrink. Here Alexia was, at work, flicking through some promotional material between interviews and training, and her thoughts are with you. “And I will not let you forget how special you are, ever. Never again”. You spent those days in pure bliss. You spend the days hiking - her pretending to be as tired as you at the peak of a mountain, she was a terrible actress but you appreciate the sentiment non the less - having picnics, exploring the mountain villages, and on one particularly spicy day, skinny dipping in an isolated mountain lake that a swiss teammate had told Alexia about. Evenings were spent looking up at the stars together, you firmly in alexias lap on the balcony, sharing a glass of wine which you held. She pointed out stars that her Papa had shown her and given silly names to, and you were there to catch her tears. She would complain only minimally that she was cold, and you would offer to warm her up and she would lead you gently into the bedroom. Nights spent in each other's embrace, sighs shared and no alarms to wake you. You would dance around the kitchen, play cards at the table, share wine and stories and just catch up. 

The pit in your stomach mended with each kiss, each peel of laughter and each stroke of the skin. 

One evening, after the skinny dipping adventure in which the footballer insisted that she must have hypothermia and had taken herself off over an hour ago telling you she wasn’t coming out of the warm shower until she had become a prune. You had started to add the finishing touches to a sketch of the scene beyond your lodges window when you felt the blonde return into the room, You eyed her quickly, flannel tartan pyjamas covering her tall frame, hanging over her wrists, matching shorts which are despicably short. Fuzzy socks on her feet. She looked absolutely adorable. 

You didn’t know why she was staring at you though, She moved towards you and you made space for her on the couch.  “You have your glasses on, Conejita.” she mumbled, and you reached up, as though to confirm they were on your face, “I didn’t know you still wore them.” You didn’t, too be honest, but with the long day of fresh air and a strong sun on the mountainside your eyes had grown tired. You shrugged at her, as she placed a soft kiss on your lips. Lovesick look in her eyes. “You’re so hot.” She mumbled, more to herself. You hear though, and the blush runs up your neck. 

You moved to get your work off your lap but she stopped you, pulling you back into her embrace and you automatically moved your knees up to rest your sketchbook there. “Carry on, please.” her chin rested on your shoulder. You hesitated, you didn’t come all this way to not spend time with the blonde, you wanted to soak in every minute. You wouldn’t be happy if she started to kick a ball around in the kitchen. She could sense your hesitation, “please. Remember, I like the sound of your pencil.” she moves your free hand to her bare thigh, “and it gives me goosebumps.” You fell in love again over those 6 days. You never fell out of it. But maybe you both just needed reminding. You felt whole, your communication about how you were feeling had worked, Alexia had listened. You just had one worry though, as the plane landed back in Barna you couldn’t hold it in. “Alex.” you said, before the seatbelt sign came on, gripping her arm lightly. “This was the best trip of my life. Thank you.” Her smile cracked her face, and she looked immensely proud of herself. “Mine too, Amor.” she agreed, easily, her face was peaceful . “But. I can’t go back to how things were again, si? I don’t think I could survive it, not after this week.” she's already shaking her head. “It won’t, I promise. I will not let that happen. Me and you, Si? That is all that is important” you take a moment, “And Pabs.” you amend for her, breaking the tension. “Si, of course” she rolls her eyes, “and Pablo Petcatso.” 

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart When she loved me

“Hey, Al?” you shout, into the living room as you enter your flat. It's been a few weeks since you returned from your impromptu get away. A busy few weeks. You have been booked up and Alex had to make up for the time she had lost, Barca were still in 4 competitions so the match load was heavy. You could see she was trying though, so that made the darkness that had started to creep back in more bearable. She wasn’t home from training yet. Which disappointed you more than usual. You were giddy. 

You had just found out that your art had been selected to be shown at a huge gallery opening in the centre of the city. An established and high-end gallery. It was a big deal, and it was potentially your big break. You got flutters in your stomach even thinking about the commissions it could make you. Pabs popped his head around the door and you picked him up giddily and span him around, his meow in response you took as a congratulations as you danced and laughed. You didn’t hear the door behind you open but you heard your favourite voice in the world, “And what have I walked into here, hey, a party with my favourite two? Without me?” Alexia laughed.  “Alex, we're celebrating!” you let Pabs free from your grip as he scurried away from his crazy mama. Her arms loop around you as you move into a slow dance, grinning up at her; “Ah, Si? And what are we celebrating?” “I got chosen! For the gallery!” Your feet leave the floor as the taller girl fully brings you into her arms, lifting you and spinning you around in glee, the squeal she lets out is full of childlike joy. “Of course you did! You are amazing!” she plops you back down and attacks your face with kisses. “I’m so proud of you Mi Amor and I am so excited to see your gallery. Oh I can get all dressed up and be your arm piece!” The thought brings you pure joy, the image of Alexia standing by your side, proudly, champagne in hand. Your Mami and Papi and Eli and Alba all present. Pabs in a little bow tie. “Si?” you ask, shyly, much more used to being by her side, “You’ll come? It is in 4 weeks. The 16th. You should be just starting on break.” A shadow of sadness passes her face at your insecurity, “Amor even if I was not on break I would not miss this for the world. If I had the world cup final I would call in sick. I will be there.  I will be the girl with the biggest bouquet of flowers in all of Barna with the lovesick look on her face.” It had been a whirlwind of a month, you had to put the finishing touches on your pieces. 

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

Scenes from the road to Valencia, The Square in Mollett, Beach Scenes in Barca, Snow capped mountains of Switzerland.

It was the story of your love for Alexia. Told through scenes only the two of you could understand the significance of. 

In the week leading up to the opening, you would spend late nights at the gallery, setting up lighting with Mapi and your Papi. Eli would walk around straightening frames on the walls. As you settled into bed each night, Alexia would open her arms and bring you into her warn embrace. 

You couldn’t wait to share your love story with the world. Alexia was having a bad day. It started bad. And continued to be bad. First, she woke up alone, which she hated. 

She recalled a kiss to the forehead and a whispered ‘I'll see you later’ before she'd dozed back off.  Then she realised that she had forgotten to charge her phone and was therefore late to training. Well. Not late for normal people. But late for Alexia. Then she forgot her socks and had to steal some of Irenes. She had a bad training session and Patri beat her in all their 1v1’s. And then the icing on the cake. She was dragged out from her gym session to do media which she hated. By the time she had finished the changing rooms were mostly empty, with only Pina and Patri left, scheming together in a corner.

“Ah now, Capi! Turn that frown upside down!” Pina teased her, “Ay, come out for a drink with me and Patri, the girls are all coming later, a bonding session before the break!”

And Alexia would usually say no, she wasn’t one for massive social events. But a drink sounded good. And it was the last day of training before the break.

Which is how she found herself 4 drinks in, deep in a booth in Patris favourite bar downtown. Most of the girls had joined them and laughter and chatter filled the roped off space. Something was missing and it took Alexia a moment to realise that there wasn’t a yapping in her ear.

“Ay, Pina, where are Mapi and Ingrid?” 

“They text the group, they had something on but they’re going to join us after. Ah… here they are!” Pina turned as Patri dragged her to the dance floor. Alexia turned to where Pina had pointed and saw Ingrid and Mapi walking towards her. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave, as they got closer she took in their state of dress; “Ay, sexy mamas, it’s only a night out with the team. Why are you dressed so nice? Have you just come from your wedding?” Mapi looked at Alexia. But really, really looked at her. “What?” nothing. “Maria, what? Why are you looking at me like that? Ingrid?” she faced the usually kind woman but she wasn’t met with her usual smile, “What’s happening? Wh-ohmygod.” It hit Alexia like a freight train. Like 10 freight trains. She physically had to hold onto the chair to her side to remain standing.  “No, no, no, I didn’t, I couldn’t have done.” She starts to pat herself down and pulls her phone out, dead, still uncharged from the night before. She holds it up to Mapi, as evidence, evidence of what she doesn’t know. As though it gives her a lifeline. She knows it doesn’t. “Ingrid? Ingrid please tell me I didn’t miss it.” she asks, desperately. The tall girl looks away, as though she can’t even face what the captain had done. “Alexia.” The rage is barely contained in Mapis' voice. “I can’t even look at you.” Mapi turns to leave, but it's as though her anger wont let her; she turns again and spits out; “Do you think she needed a reminder on her phone to know when the Champions League final was? Do you think… I can’t… I have just come from her gallery opening. Her life's work. A life shared with you. And here you are. At a bar. Celebrating, what?  A game of football? A half season well done? Fuck off. Seriously. Fuck. Off” Ingrid grips her hand and tries to pull her away. All Alexia can do is stand there and take it, it's not a hundredth of what she deserves. “No Ingrid.” She pulls her hand free and pushes her finger into Alexia's chest. “You are a selfish monster. She thought you must be hurt. That's what she thought. She thought you were in a ditch somewhere. She almost cancelled the whole thing to run around hospitals to find you. But then Alba saw you on Patris instagram. And here you are. La Reina.” Mapi looks her up and down, pure disgust on her face. “Your Mamis held her as she sobbed. Alba redid her makeup. I would steer clear of her Papi for months if I were you. She is strong, and she gave a speech.” Alexia couldn’t breathe. You gave a speech? She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.  “Please, Maria, stop. I can’t listen.” Alexia couldn’t take it. She moved Mapis' hand off her chest and ran to the door of the club. One thought in her mind. Get to you. Get to you. “It's too late Alexia.” Mapi shouts to her back. She ignores her. It can’t be. No It can't be. She jumps out of the uber onto the unfamiliar street. The lights to the gallery are off but she desperately tries the door regardless. Banging on it with her fist in frustration. She lets out a scream into the empty street. Peering through the windows she sees wall after wall of your work. Scenes she recognises from her life. Football pitches. Beaches, Mountains. The scene from your balcony in Mollet. It was all so beautiful. So carefully curated. And she wasn’t there. She takes off at a run. It’s not too late. Mapi is wrong. It’s not too late. She will die if it is too late. “Y/N!” she barged into the apartment. She must have ran 10 miles. “Y/N are you here?” She runs from room to room. But there is no one there. When that's established she plugs her phone into the charger on the breakfast bar and makes her way back through the apartment. She goes into the bedroom. No, please no. The wardrobe is open, your side is empty. She looks around. Your things are gone.

The kitchen remains largely unaffected. Though the picture of you and your parents no longer sits on the shelf. Your trainers are gone from the hall. Your favourite blanket from the couch. She looks at the walls. Anything you had painted. Gone. Alexia always insisted that your art be on the walls, in each home you shared together. “Why would I want strangers work on the walls, Mi Amor? When I have the best artist in the world here?” she would say, making you blush. She was addicted to that blush. She walks back into the hallway. One picture remains in pride of place. The picture you presented to her in her darkest moment. You would never take that away from her. It was a gift of pure adoration. All it does is make the stabbing pain in Alexia's heart worsen. She pushes open the door to your art studio. All that remains are paints and blank canvases. Except. In the middle of the room. The easel. A picture she had seen before, in its early stages. A hand. A hand holding a beautiful flower. But it had changed somehow. Pressure lines had appeared. The flower beginning to wilt under the force. It wasn’t your usual work. Alexia stood closer. Entranced. As she inspected the image she saw the light tease off still wet paint. You had touched this up recently. Her eyes search, frantically for anything of your last moments in the apartment when she catches it. Too light for anyone not searching for it. 11. Blended into skin at the wrist of the image. A tattoo. So lightly painted but it etched itself fiercely into Alexia's soul. This was her hand. This hand that was silently destructive, was hers.  She saw a post it note stuck to the leg of the easel and in your looping handwriting: ‘Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting that they won't use it.’

She brought her hand up to her mouth and let out an audible gasp. She runs into the kitchen and dry heaves over the sink. There, she watches as her tears splash into the marble. And as she watches. She takes note of a single paint droplet. Her tears joined it, creating the most heart crushing piece of work she had ever seen.

God. She used to get so angry at that paint in the sink.

It's been years, she thought, years since she found paint in the sink. How much did you have to lessen yourself in order to be with her?

She collapsed into a seated position. Back against the kitchen cabinet. And brought her knees to her chest. She sobbed. And sobbed. She was joined at one point by Pabs. She thought you’d taken him with you. But no, in a typical act of kindness you wouldn’t leave her alone in her despair.

His little bow tie still sat around his neck, skew-whiff, as he looked at his mama curiously. He licked her nose and she sobbed harder.

Weeks passed.

She doesn’t know how she got through those weeks. Thousands of missed calls. Hundreds of messages. Went unanswered.

Alexia didn’t hear from you. Her Mami and Alba had forgiven her after Alba had found her in a state and unable to look after herself but they made it clear they were on your side. Mapi wouldnt look at her. They wouldn't tell her where you were, they wouldn’t pass on any message.

She was too frightened to go to your Mami and Papa.

She hadn’t trained well for weeks, She arrived at training exhausted. Sleep would never find her. She was barely clinging on. Jona still insisted she play. She was La Reina.

And then she broke. And that's where Irene found her, after another match of lacklustre performance. In a back corridor of the stadium. Broken and staring at the wall in front of her.

A ghost of the woman she was. 

Her phone lay next to her. A message from you. A response to her apologies, her thoughts, the pain she had told you she felt for your failed relationship. 

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[2neaky]

𓇼°₊.𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 ❀ 𝙵𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚝 🥭

—Want you to suck it sloppy, make it spitty. I'm 'bout to call your phone, so come get with me.

Know you don't drink, can you sip me?

‘Dunk Contest,’ Cash Cobain

Last Installation of this ‘mini-series’ … P.1 here -> P.2 here

not the best editing, i know. this fic has been in the drafts for abt a month & ... it's time for their story to be closed out.

10.06k!Warnings: oral (masc. receiving), handj*bs (fem. & masc. recieving), mutual m*sturbation, filthy talk, *verstimulation, low refr*ctory periods, technically w*tersports (minor), edging, excessive amounts of ej*culation, squ*rting, descriptions of character’s body parts (curvaceous/thick/girthy), use of the n-word (all characters & the writer are Black), original characters

The next time the group gets together it’s well into the fall. 

Months of distance and busy schedules kept the friends separate. Yet, on a random weekend in October, the stars aligned to grant the friends a day of freedom to meet and catch up.

He won’t admit it aloud—that’s a bit too corny for him—but Ajani missed his people. The life of a working adult only gives but so much time for social gatherings. Especially with a whole friend-group.

Even then, it’s not like he hasn’t seen any of them since the party.

“I’on understand why you couldn’t just ride with me.”

“All my stuff is at my mom’s, ‘Jani.”

If he just closes his eyes, he can see the pout on her face. He glances at the screen, eyeing the contact name: Princxss Dia.

“Really? ‘Cause I almost tripped over your flat iron when I was getting in the shower.”

She groans out loud into the mic. “I knew I left it!”

He smiles, eyes now on the road as he makes a swift turn onto a busy street. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles upon seeing the traffic.

“But if I came with you … then they’d know.”

He kisses his teeth, face screwing up. “Man, I care less and less ‘bout that shit every day. I’m pretty sure they know—“

“‘Pretty sure’ is not a confirmation. And I wanna make sure the time is right when we tell them.”

He spots a parking space in front of the restaurant Boku had chosen for the night. No doubt, he’s going to snatch that shit up.

“Why shit gotta be ‘perfect?’” he asks, looking at his rear view camera as he backs into the space.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. He can hear her moving around on the other side of the line. “I’m trying to … figure out a way to introduce it without … making everything weird,” she sighs out.

“How ‘bout, ‘hey guys, me and Ajani have been dating for a few months now,’” he mocks her voice.

“No.”

He sucks his teeth. “Why not?”

“That’s too blunt!”

“Exactly. What more is there to say? You wanna tell them the whole backstory? ‘Cause I’on really think they need to know that.”

“I’m not saying they do. I just think we need to … soften the approach.”

He puts his car in park before shutting it off, the engine dying down. “I’on know … what approach you talking ‘bout, but when you ready to stop hiding, you lemme know so I could book my appointment.”

“Appointment?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? I wanted to get your name tatted on my forehead.”

“ … Shut up.”

He laughs quietly to himself as he pulls down his sun visor. “You almost ready,” he asks, checking his appearance in the mirror.

It’s quiet for a couple of seconds. “No.”

His smile drops and he kisses his teeth. A second passes as he glares at the phone. Then, he picks it up. “Yo, answer my FaceTime.”

The mode of the call switches, bringing both of them into view on either’s screen. He licks his lips, getting a clear view of her pretty face as her phone is propped up against her vanity.

“Why you only got your makeup done?”

She frowns, setting powder decorating her face. “Because I did my hair first. It’s hair, makeup, then clothes.”

He only releases a sigh, unable to even be really upset.

“Aight, then hurry up. I told you we gonna have to work on that late shit.”

She smiles, reaching for a brush to dust off the powder. “Sorry, baby.”

He hums, eyeing her as he holds his phone closely. “You look good.”

She exchanges her brush for a lip pencil. “Thank you.” She tries not to smile too hard, careful not to mess up as she applies her liner.

“What you wearing?”

She blends out the harsh line of her dark brown liner with a finger. “A dress.”

He waits for her to explain further, but the explanation doesn’t come. “That’s it?”

“Mhm.” She quickly glances at the screen, looking away before she cracks a smile.

“Can I see it?”

“Nope.”

Now she’s smiling, a devious little one, too.

“Yeah, okay,” he scoffs. “You just make sure it’s no crazy ass shit. You know how Big Daddy gets.”

Her head jerks back as she looks at the screen, flabbergasted. “Don’t ever in your life … call yourself that again.”

“You just make sure you know,” he pushes before breaking into a smile, almost laughing. “But nah, forreal. That ass ain’t been getting smaller so … keep it cute.”

She rolls her eyes with pursed lips. “Shut up.”

He scoffs, looking out the window of his car. “Yeah … you think I’m joking.” He scoffs.

“Are you?”

He looks back at her, noting her nonchalance as she applies gloss over her lip combo.

“Play with me if you want to.” He licks his lips. His gaze falls to the exposed middle of her chest as her robe has slipped open. “I’on need niggas eyeing my shit.”

“Okay, Ajani.”

“Nah, it’s not Ajani,” he mocks her voice, earning a glare. “That’s Big Daddy to you—“

“I’m hanging up!”

She reaches forward, snatching up her phone.

“Don’t you wear nothing crazy!”

“Bye!”

The call ends abruptly, leaving him to shake his head. Not too long after pocketing his phone, he leaves the car. 

The only thing that’s on his mind being her.

Just before he enters the restaurant, he shoots her one last text.

Jani: lmk when u ready Ima call a uber

His face almost splits in half with how hard he smiles as he daps up his boys.

“Finally, nigga! We expected your ass to be here sooner,” Boku tells him.

“Chill, it was mad traffic,” he laughs. 

“Nah, facts. It’s mad people out tonight,” Mykel says.

The three are huddled close in the waiting area of the restaurant. All of the constant shifting to make way for entering and leaving patrons has pushed them to the corner.

“Forreal. Yo, why you pick this place?” Ajani looks to Boku. “I seen this shit blow up on TikTok.”

“Nigga, that’s where I got it from.”

All three dissolve into boisterous laughter, because Boku would be the one to make such a mistake.

Mykel shakes his head. “I’m already knowing the food and service ‘bout to be ass.”

“Nah, facts,” Ajani agrees.

“Aight, now. Not too much,” Boku chimes in. “‘Long as the drinks good, I could give less of a fuck about what they onion rings taste like.”

He and Mykel break off into a mini side conversation of their own, a usual occurrence between all three of them.

As they do so, Ajani pulls out his phone to check his notifications. Even though he doesn’t see one, he constantly refreshes the screen for a possible hidden text message that he just happened to miss.

None.

“‘Jani, you know where the girls at?”

Hesitantly, he looks up at the guys. “Nah,” he shakes his head, face blank. “Why would I know?” He makes a face.

“I’on know,” Mykel looks off to the side. “I thought Diamanté would’a told you something.”

“Why it gotta be Dia?”

“Nigga, don’t act dumb,” Boku butts in. “‘Cause y’all be talking.”

“I talk to Aleya and Sevyn, too.” When he laughs—the loud music masking its awkward tone—his eyes shift between his friends. 

“Not like you talk to Dia,” he scoffs. “That’s for damn sure.”

Sucking his teeth, Ajani wear a mask of confusion. “Nigga, shut up. You still on that shit—“

“‘Cause I know your ass still likes her!”

“Yo, I’m not even gonna lie,” Mykel starts. “I’ma have to side with Bo’ on this one. You might as well tell her at this point.”

His face contorts with annoyance. 

Nigga, shut up.

“That’s if he not already fucking her,” Boku laughs.

His brows pull together at Boku’s brash statement. “Yo, what?” 

Mykel rolls his lips inward, watching the two with caution. He questions, should he step in between this?

“Nah, I’m just saying! You’on gotta be embarrassed—”

“I ain’t embarrassed, nigga. There’s not shit to say, fuck I’ma be embarrassed for?”

Boku laughs, glancing at Mykel for backup. The other man remains quiet.

“Aight, then stand on it! Just say you fuckin’ her—“

Ajani doesn’t even realize that he takes a step forward. “Yo, shut the fuck up talking ‘bout her like that—“

“Alright, chill out now.” Mykel steps between them, placing a hand in front of Ajani to keep him back. 

Boku pulls his brows together. “Yo, wassup with you?”

“Ain’t shit up with nothing, you just make sure you keep shit respectful.” The scowl on his lips only deepens.

Boku raises his hands in defense. “My fault, bro. I wasn’t tryna offend—”

“Yeah, that’s ’cause you just open your mouth to say bullshit.” Ajani backs up the more Mykel pushes against him. “Like she not your fuckin’ friend, too, my nigga. What?”

“You good, bro. You good,” Mykel tells him. “Relax.”

“Just fuckin’ talkin’,” he rambles.

Before he can acknowledge the apology, his phone buzzes in his hand. Fully stepping away from them, Ajani checks his messages.

Princxss Dia: I’m ready

He wastes no time to order Diamanté’s Uber ride. 

With the distance between them and the Lou music playing overhead, it’s hard for him to hear. He knows Mykel and Boku are talking about him.

He refrains from even thinking much about it, though. Because just talking to Diamanté is putting him in a better mood.

Jani: its coming in 5 min

*screenshot of the Uber order*

Princxss Dia: tyy daddy🤗

Jani: 🙄

Princxss Dia: 💀

Jani: send me a picture

I wanna c u

Princxss Dia: it’s gonna ruin the surprise

Jani: surprise 

🤨

Princxss Dia: 💀

Jani: stop playing Dia

read

Thankfully, Aleya and Sevyn arrive not too long after. Their presences lighten the atmosphere considerably. 

Especially when Sevyn and Boku fall into conversation—a playful argument as usual about some dumb shit.

“Oh my God, I miss Dia’,” Aleya pouts. “Where is she?” She does a full-body turn, looking to Ajani.

Boku keeps quiet this time.

The question garners attention from the others within the group, who are now curious of his answer.

He kisses his teeth. “Why yall not asking her? Damn, what the fuck?”

Sevyn’s face screws up as her neck jerks back. “Nigga, calm the fuck down.”

“Right,” Aleya eyes him as her lips twist into an ugly scowl. “I just thought you’d know since y’all seem to be close.”

Sevyn hums in agreement. “Real close.”

Now, he’s making a face. “What that mea—“

“Hi guys!”

The much softer voice breaks the conversation, catching everyone’s attention. 

Walking towards them, Diamanté’s bright smile lights up the dimly lit space. 

Her straightened, black hair flows down her back. Being pulled back, it leaves her entire outfit exposed: a simple black Skims dress, flowing to her ankles.

The classy, white Hermes slides on her feet show off her white French toes. A small white crossbody purse ties the dress with the shoes.

Yeah, she’s cute and all—Ajani would never deny her that. But even underneath the restaurant’s dim, multicolored lighting, he can see every detail of her body “hiding” beneath the thin, ribbed fabric.

Down to her fucking belly piercing.

His eyes flick up to look into hers. He’s staring hard.

“Finally!” Aleya screams.

She runs to meet the short woman halfway, throwing her arms around her. Sevyn is right behind her, doing the same.

The women hug each other and their bodies sway like palm trees in the wind. Ajani’s happy for them—Diamanté, at least. It’s been so long since she’s seen them.

However, the happiness is short lived.

Others seem to be enjoying the women’s show happiness, too. Ajani looks over them, catching a small group of guys watching them.

What hint of a smile that was on his face shrinks immediately.

“I missed you guys,” Dia tells them as she pulls back, covering her mouth.

“We need to go out more,” Sevyn says. “‘Cause not seeing each other for this long is fucking ridiculous.”

“I know,” she pouts.

“Girl, you look so fucking good—” A sharp gasp slices through Aleya’s sentence. She reaches out to grab Dia’s arm, pulling her forward to peer down her back. “Girl, your ass!”

Looking too, Sevyn’s mouth drops in shock. “Damn, bitch!” 

Diamanté only laughs as she looks between her friends.

“It looks so fucking big,” Aleya says in awe. She looks over at Sevyn. “No, like deadass. Like it looks bigger.”

“How she get more ass and mine getting flatter?” Sevyn jokes.

“Drop the routine!” Aleya reaches behind Diamanté, grabbing a good handful of her ass. She sticks out her tongue.

Diamanté only laughs harder.

“Fuck a routine,” Sevyn declares. “Who you been fucking?” The interrogative expression on her face is intense.

“Oh my God,” she says, hand over her mouth as her smile only grows.

“It’s so heavy,” Aleya says in amazement, using both hands to lift her ass. Squeezing tightly, the dimpled skin can be seen through the fabric. “I can’t even hold it all, what the fuck!”

As the girls continue to laugh, Ajani only continues to watch the leering men. 

It takes everything in him not to go towards the women and tell them to stop.

Playfully, Diamanté rolls her eyes. “You guys are chatting.”

“No, girl. Your shit is mad fat, like what the fuck?”

“Okay, okay,” Diamanté says. “Can we sit now?”

Sevyn purses her lips, eyeing her friend. “Mhm. Look at you, you just so tea. Like you come up in here glowing, ass fatter, face card on 10, inches—you just showing out tonight!”

“Facts,” Aleya agrees.

Finally, they return to the other half of the group. Diamanté breaks away from her girls to greet the guys.

“Wassup, Dia,” Mykel gives her a side hug.

“Hey,” she sings.

She pulls away to give Boku the same embrace.

“Hey, Dia.”

“Hi, Boku,” she smiles.

Boku and Ajani make eye contact for a split second. Quickly, Boku looks away just before pulling back.

Ajani doesn’t get the chance to really mug that nigga how he wants to as Diamanté makes her way over to him.

“Hiii,” her voice is much softer.

She’s trying to fight back a smile, he can tell. But, it’s too cute as her teeth slowly come into full display.

The corners of his mouth lift uncontrollably. “Hey.”

Wordlessly, she steps into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. His arms circle around her waist, pulling her body closer.

“Why you ain’t text me when you got here?” 

His chest vibrates with each word. She can even hear the smile in his voice.

“I forgot.”

“Would’a came out and got you.”

She pulls away with a laugh, careful to keep their interaction brief enough so that they don’t get their friends started.

“Damn, Ajani. She wasn’t going nowhere.”

Clearly, that didn’t work.

His smile drops as his eyes flit over to Aleya, who wears a smug grin on her lips.

“Aight, now that all y’all niggas is here, I’ma see if we could check in for the table,” Boku announces.

He parts from the group to make his way to the hostess’ booth.

Conversation between the remaining five is quite mellow. Ajani finds himself standing back, only admiring Diamanté as she speaks.

Even when she’s quiet, he’s paying close attention to her body language and the way she reacts to things said.

“Let’s go,” Boku says as he rejoins the group.

“Thank you, God,” Aleya praises.

“Facts, these heels are killing my feet,” Sevyn complains as she starts after Boku.

As everyone else follows, heading towards the table, Ajani stays behind. Before Diamanté can catch up, he grabs ahold of her hand, stopping her in her tracks.

“Hol’on, ‘cause I didn’t get a proper ‘hello.’”

He pulls her body back in close, missing the feel of her against him. He almost sighs when her soft body presses against his.

Diamanté allows herself to smile as big as she wants to. She angles her head up for a kiss. The gentleman he is, Ajani meets her halfway and presses his lips against hers.

A small peck isn’t enough, as he finds himself going back in for a couple more. And as he does so, he doesn’t resist the urge to reach behind her and cop a feel of her ass himself.

His lips plant mini smooches from her cheek all the way down to her neck. She turns her head to the side, giving him more access.

“You look mad good,” he says into her skin.

His muffled voice tickles her skin, pulling a bubbly giggle out of her. “You told me that already.”

“Aight, and I’m telling you again.” Ajani pulls back just far enough to look her in the eyes. 

Damn, he really meant that shit. It’s almost unbelievable how bad she is. Sometimes he wonders how the fuck he was able to bag her.

“But I also told you not to come outside wearing no shit like this—“

She squeals as he lays a harsh smack to her ass, gripping the fat immediately after.

“Ajani!” She whisper-shouts, eyes wide with shock.

He only bites down on his bottom lip, eyes flitting past her to see the group of men from earlier still in the same spots. 

Except this time, they’re glaring. 

“Told you I ain’t want you showing off my shit like this.”

His other hand cradles her neck, squeezing just enough as he plants another smooch on her lips.

When he pulls back, he sees the inkling of a dazed look in her low eyes. Even from behind those big ass glasses.

“Okay,” she whines softly.

“Mmh.”

She begins to laugh, because she can definitely feel herself slipping into a mood.

“C’mon, before I fuck ya lil’ ass up out here.” His hands fall from her. “Got niggas looking at you all crazy.”

He holds his hand out for her to take. When she does, they make their way over to the table. 

However, before they get close enough, they place some distance between themselves.

Conversation at the table is all smiles and laughter over their platters and drinks.

Speaking of drinks, no one at the table is too good to pass up a bit of alcohol. Not even those who drove here.

“See this? This right here?” Sevyn taps an acrylic nail to the glass of her fruity drink. “I’ma need me some more’a that!”

“Mhm,” Aleya hums, sipping on hers through the straw.

Liquor seems to bring the conversation out of the friends. But, Ajani refrains from specifically addressing Boku. And Diamanté finds herself becoming more and more quiet.

Even with her besties around her, she can’t seem to make herself speak. What can she say, when all of her thoughts are filled with Ajani? Definitely not anything that should be said out-loud. 

At the very least, on a FaceTime call with just the girls.

Hiding behind her lemon drop, she watches him from across the table with low eyes. Every time he smiles, he does so just enough to give a peek at his grillz. 

Fuck, he looks so good. He smells even better. And the way he was choking her up out there, smacking her ass—

No lie, it made her wet. Her clit was thumping for sure. The liquor isn’t helping as it’s bringing up memories.

Like how just a couple of nights ago, she was staying over at his apartment. It was a time. 

Two shots of Don was all it took for her to end up on her tummy, getting dicked down.

He fucked her stupid that night. She almost wished she wasn’t on birth control. But that was just the liquor talking.

Her eyes flutter close as her thighs squeeze together. She has to take a deep breath.

“And Dia’s ass is already off the shits!”

A chorus of laughter sounds throughout the table, knocking her from her thoughts. As she looks around her, she offers a shy smile.

“Y’all some damn lightweights,” Sevyn continues to joke.

“I ain’t—look—I ain’t no fuckin’ lightweight,” Boku shouts, holding his glass up.

“Maaan,” Mykel gives him a look. “You better slow down, nigga.”

More laughter sounds. With the spotlight off of her, Diamanté’s thoughts circle back to Ajani.

And speaking of, he takes a sip of his alcohol to hide his smirk. He’s not oblivious, he could feel her staring this whole time.

Of course, it flatters him. If it’s one thing about Diamanté, it’s that she gets freaky off the liquor. And he can tell what’s running through her mind.

Because he’s thinking about the same thing. He’s just got to hold out for the rest of the night.

Leave it up to Boku to plan some weird ass shit. Who the fuck goes bowling after dinner and drinks?

Shit, at least the place serves drinks. And if Ajani was fucking with him right now, he’d commend him for at least picking a good spot.

The alley is surprisingly busy around this time, for it being almost eleven pm. It’s mostly dark in here, just like the damn restaurant.

Why doesn’t Boku ever pick places with good lighting?

“On my soul, I’m washing y’all niggas,” Aleya swears. She shoves a foot into the rented pair of shoes.

Mykel shakes his head, strapping up his pair. “Here she go.”

“Oh shit … I don’t got not socks, y’all.” The usual rasp in Sevyn’s voice is worse due to the drinks.

“Me neither,” Diamanté says, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she fans herself.

Not only is she just a bit horny, but she’s fucking hot. The only downside to drinking. She only hopes she doesn’t sweat her silk press out.

“There’s a booth that sells them,” Boku says.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ma play. I’ll just watch y’all,” she smiles.

“Ugh! Boringgg,” Aleya groans, throwing her head back.

Sevyn looks to Diamanté. “Okay, well, you could come with me while I buy my socks?”

She nods, prompting her to stand up. 

“Can’t wait to wear them shoes. Fuck these heels, bro.” Sevyn holds on to her shoulder for support.

“Aye, if y’all get lost, call one’a us,” Ajani says. “It’s too many people in here tonight.”

“Sure thing, officer!” Sevyn scoffs.

Ajani gives her a scowl, and Dia gives him a short wave before the two of them are off.

“Damn, that’s a long ass line!” Sevyn scowls seeing the bodies fill the area.

“Oh my gosh,” Diamanté frowns.

“I do not wanna be standing on these fucking heels any longer!”

Kissing her teeth, she reluctantly joins the line, Dia in tow. As they wait, both women are scrolling through their phones trying to pass the time.

But it doesn’t take long for them to get to talking.

“If I ask you this question, you gonna be honest?”

Diamanté peers up from her screen to look at Sevyn. Her brows pull together in question. “Yeah?”

Sevyn eyes her for a moment. “You and Ajani fucking? Like—and be honest. Don’t lie to me girl, I hate that shit.”

A sigh leaves Diamanté. Clicking her phone off, she fully looks her friend in the eyes. “Yeah—“

“I knew it! I fucking knew iiit!” Sevyn jumps up and down on her supposedly aching feet. “Fuck! Since when?”

Trying to keep herself from smiling, she stays quiet.

A gasp. “It was after the party, wasn’t it?”

She nods, her smile growing.

They move up in the line.

“Bitch! I fucking—nah, ‘cause I checked your fucking lo’ and your ass was still there after we all left. Uh-uh, y’all so damn nasty.”

“Okay,” she rolls her eyes. “Don’t say anything about it. I’m still trying to … figure out a way to tell the others.” She frowns to herself.

Sevyn makes a face. “Girl, what you mean? Just drop the tea,” she laughs. “Shit, you could do it in the fucking chat. Matter fact, I don’t even think niggas really give a fuck. We all grown, Dia’. And it’s not like we all didn’t see it coming…”

“Shut up.” She rolls her eyes. “But, I just wanna tell ‘Leya at least, before I really … break the news.”

“Aight, I feel you.” Sevyn looks her over before breaking out into a dirty smile. “So he the reason your ass been getting fatter.”

“Oh my gosh.” She looks away from her, shaking her head.

“That’s fucking crazy. Who the fuck knew he was putting it down like that?”

Just before she can respond, her phone lights up with a message.

Jani: wya

U got lost ?

“Speak’a the fucking devil,” Sevyn says over her shoulder, spotting the message.

“Hush,” Dia laughs, typingout her response. 

“I like how he ain’t even ask about me. So it’s just fuck me, then.”

“What if the ‘y’ means y’all?”

Sevyn rolls her eyes before her face settles. “But, at least he’s crazy about you. That’s all I want for you.”

Diamanté looks up at her friend with a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Mhm. I seen y’all at the restaurant.”

Her smile drops and her eyes widen just a bit. “Sevyn.”

“What?”

“If you saw why did you ask?”

She smirks. “I just wanted to see if you would lie.”

The shorter woman groans out.

“Yeah, ya lil’ ass is mad freaky, eewww.” She laughs obnoxiously. “Never thought I’d see you get choked up like that. Or him smacking ya shit—”

“Stop, please!” She hides her face in her hands.

“Oh, I just know he told you not to wear that shit,” she cackles. “You in trouble,” she sings. “That nigga had that crazy look in his eyes. Especially when he seen them niggas staring in the restaurant.”

“Are you serious?”

“Mhm,” she nods with crossed arms. “You just make sure you stay on his good side. Before I become an aunty too soon.”

Diamanté shoves her shoulder. “Don’t wish that on me.”

“Oh, bitch, I’m actually wishing that shit and more. You know I always wanted a little niece or nephew—even if ‘Jani’s annoying ass is the father.” She rolls her eyes.

“I rebuke kids,” she laughs. “Hell no.”

“Yeah, okay. If you say that, you better not tell me that y’all be fucking raw.”

Diamanté doesn’t say anything to that.

When the game commences, Diamanté is the only one to sit it out. And she’s having just as good a time as any.

Mykel had ordered wings for the group—lemon pepper and garlic Parmesan. Drinks, too, of course.

She nibbles on a couple of wings, courtesy of Ajani feeding them to her.

He’s had his fair share of extra drinks. And with each sip, he’s caring less and less about hiding shit from their friends.

Speaking of drinks, Dia’s been washing her food down with sips of water and gulps of fruity, alcoholic drinks. And she really should’ve stopped herself. 

Because now she’s got to go to the bathroom.

“Nah, I dead gotta go, too,” Sevyn says.

“I’ma come with y’all.” Aleya gets on her feet.

“Damn, y’all just gonna pause the game like that?” Mykel says, biting into a wing.

“We’ll be back!” Aleya declares.

The women make their way over to the bathrooms, which—unsurprisingly—has a line.

“Fuuuck! All these fucking lines!” Sevyn groans, stomping her foot.

“I know,” Dia says, shifting in her spot as she holds her lower stomach. “I gotta go … so bad,” she huffs.

“I bet you the men’s bathroom not even full like that.”

Sevyn scoffs. “I’m not going to no niggas’ bathroom at a bowling alley. ‘Bouta smell like funky dick and straight piss in there.”

Dia laughs.

“But, shit, since we here…” Sevyn turns to her. “Tell her.”

Aleya looks to Diamanté. 

“Oh, um … Ajani and I—“

“I fucking knew it!”

Sevyn throws her head back in laughter. 

“Y’all could not hide that shit!” Her eyes are wide as she points back at their lane. “When I seen that nigga feeding you them wings, it was certified!”

“Bitch, you don’t even wanna know what I saw,” Sevyn says, clinging to her.

As she and Diamanté catch her up on everything, they inch closer to the bathroom door.

Diamanté tells them about the most recent date they’d been on together. And while it’s an interesting story, Sevyn can’t help but to feel eyes on them.

She turns her head, to see a group of men looking their way. They make eye contact, as it appears that they’re pushing their friend to make a move.

“Oh fuck no.”

Aleya and Diamanté look at her.

“Y’all, is that them niggas from the restaurant?”

They look over at the men, one of them immediately making eye contact with Dia.

“Please don’t tell me they about to come over here,” Aleya scowls. “Ugh, I hate niggas!”

She says it loud enough for them to hear. And yet, one of them is still making their way over.

Sevyn kisses her teeth. “Bruh.”

The guy making his way over has his eyes dead set on Diamanté. His long locs are pulled back into barrel twists and a mature beard sits on the lower half of his face.

His dangling cross earring makes Sevyn scoff. “This corny ass nigga,” she mumbles.

“Wassup,” he greets, only looking at Diamanté.

Rude, she thinks. Her nose wrinkles as the smell of weed fills the space.

“Hello to you, too,” Aleya sasses.

“My bad,” he laughs. “I just wanted to come talk to you,” he nods over at Dia. 

“Okay,” she says quietly.

“You fine as shit, I’m not even gonna cap,” he smiles, showing a gold canine tooth. “Not on no creep-shit, but I seen you at The Palacades and,” he shrugs. “Don’t hurt to try, right?”

“Proceeds to be on some creep-shit,” Sevyn says.

“Right,” Aleya agrees.

The two share a laugh, causing the man to glance at them. He doesn’t let that deter him, though.

“You … saw me there?” Diamanté asks, her face creasing with confusion. 

“Yeah you and that guy.”

Now it’s Aleya’s turn to make a face.

“Hol’up,” Sevyn laughs, shaking her head. 

“Y’know, I just wanted to shoot my shot. Like, you never know. Y’all might not even be serious—“

“Well, they are. And you’re mad weird for asking.” She twists her face up. “What the fuck? Nigga is you cool?”

“Hold on,” he says, turning to Sevyn. “I don’t remember asking about you. So, I don’t know why you tryna get involved.” He’s getting visibly irritated.

“She don’t have to,” Aleya steps in. “If you seen my friend with her nigga, why are you harassing her?”

Worry makes itself evident on Dia’s face. She’s not sure where this conversation is going to go. And she definitely forgot her pepper gel at home.

“‘Cause that corny ass move that nigga tried to do wasn’t shit,” he laughs. “He think smacking ya ass was gonna scare somebody off? I don’t give a fuck about that shit,” he laughs. 

“Okay, no—“ Diamanté starts, but Sevyn is too quick to come to her defense.

“Get the fuck outta here, you weirdo ass nigga. She don’t want you!”

“She said that, though?”

“She ain’t say she wanted you neither,” Aleya says.

“Man, y’all bitches kill me.”

“Bitches?” They all say in unison.

“Yeah. It’s always the ugly ones talking the most shit—“

“Nigga you look like a fucking dog in the face yourself!” Aleya gets to pointing.

And as their voices climb, both sides growing more aggressive, Diamanté finds herself paralyzed with fear.

She is not sober enough for this.

Back at the lane, the guys keep themselves busy. Mykel cheats, taking the girl’s turns for them—and throwing horrendous gutter balls.

Meanwhile, Boku and Ajani are seated, munching on the leftover wings. Well, Ajani doesn’t eat as much as Boku, but he’s got a couple of bites in.

Neither of them address the other. And it’s … annoying. 

Although Ajani is still upset about what was said, it sucks that this is how their first time hanging out in a minute has to be like this.

But he’s not a pussy. And he’s damn sure not speaking first. 

A nudge to his shoulder brings him out of his phone. He looks up, seeing Boku stare at him.

“Yo, I’m sorry ‘bout earlier, bro. I should’ve never said that shit. I just be talking sometimes, you know that. And I be saying the wrong shit.”

“Mmh.”

“And Dia’s my friend. It’s not right’a me to be disrespecting her like that. If you want, shit, I’ll even apologize to her, too.”

Ajani watches him for a moment.

Their silence is broken by a shout from Mykel in the distance, cheering as he scores a strike.

“Nah … you ain’t gotta do that,” he finally says. “I respect the apology. But watch your mouth ‘bout her.”

Boku nods in understanding.

Silence falls over them again as the sounds of the alley machines, the music, people talking, and the arcade games fill the space.

Ajani almost feels himself dissociating again as his tipsy brain thinks. And one thing about him, is that his mouth runs.

Swallowing, he looks away from his friend. “Nah … you was right, though.”

Boku wears a questioning look on his face. “What you mean?”

It takes a second before Ajani finally looks at him. “We fucking with each other.”

He tries to conceal his excitement. But, he just can’t stop himself from dapping him up. 

“My nigga—uh, no disrespect, though.”

Ajani shakes his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Y’all better come play before I do your turns!”

“Nigga, fuck the game! Come over here, Jay got something to say!”

Reluctantly placing the ball back onto the rack, Mykel heads over to them.

“What you got to say?” He takes the last garlic Parmesan wing, earning a glare from Boku.

“Guess,” Boku says.

Mykel turns to Ajani, eyeing him. “You and Dia?”

He nods, earning another smile from their standing friend. “That’s what I’m talking ‘bout,” he laughs. “You asked her?”

“Yeah,” Ajani says, keeping it short. But his smile says everything, as he reminisces on that night.

“When y’all got together?” Boku asks.

He kisses his teeth, feeling the liquor in his system. “Uh … at the party.”

Both men stare at him with wide eyes. 

“Nigga—that’s almost six months!” Boku shouts.

“It’s no way y’all hid that shit for that long,” Mykel laughs.

“Wasn’t my idea,” Ajani says. “She over here, scared to say shit. But me—I’on give a fuck.” He scoffs. “I’a get her shit tatted, she keep fuckin’ with me,” he shakes his head, toying with the ends of a braid.

Boku and Mykel share a look, and a thought—this nigga is drunk.

Before either of them could voice it, however, Sevyn’s raspy ass voice enters their ears.

“Y’all hear that shit?” Mykel asks, twisting and turning to find the source of the voice.

“Why the fuck she yelling?” Boku asks, looking for her, too.

“How they still not back from the bathroom?”

It’s Ajani that spots her first—in a nigga’s face.

“Yo,” he says, sitting up, more alert than ever.

The guys notice, too. And it doesn’t take long for Ajani to get out of his seat. He’s the first to make it over there. And immediately he’s hit with the smell of weed.

“What’s going on?”

He immediately looks to Diamanté, who has discomfort written all over her face.

“Hell no, come get this nigga,” Aleya shout, pointing at the man.

Ajani watches him back up an inch as he raises his hands in defense. As he stares at the guy, he finds him just a tad bit familiar.

“What’s the issue?”

“It’s no issue, bro—“

“Clearly, it is!” Sevyn cuts in. “‘Cause you was throwing that ‘bitch’ word around a lot—“

“Look, I was just tryna get at your friend,” he says, pointing to Diamanté.

Ajani’s brows furrow as he looks between her and the guy.

“She don’t want you,” Aleya screams.

Then it clicks; This guy was apart of that group that caught themselves staring Diamanté down.

“Go back to your fuckin’ group,” Ajani says. “You a fuckin’ cornball,” he spits.

“Bum ass nigga—and he stink!” Aleya points at him.

“Man, get the fuck outta here, she don’t need no other nigga.” 

Ajani steps forward as he speaks, the other man stepping back.

“Aight, my fault—“

“It was. The fuck?” Sevyn says.

Finally, the man walks off, leaving the friends alone once more. The women seem to let out a sigh of release, and Diamanté seems to cling to Ajani’s side.

“That fucking weirdo. Shit just pissed me off I don’t even wanna pee no more.” Sevyn crosses her arms, her anger slow to dissipate.

“No, I’m still gonna use the bathroom,” Aleya scoffs.

“Me too.”

Diamanté’s quiet voice grabs their attentions, especially Ajani’s.

His brows furrow. “Nah, you could use the bathroom home.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“Yeah, fuck all this shit. We going.”

“Ajani—“

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’on give a fuck. That nigga got me fucked up.”

Aleya and Sevyn share a knowing look.

“Tell ‘em niggas we gone,” he says, taking up Diamanté’s hand.

Too tipsy to really object, she tells her friends ‘goodnight,’ promising to text them tomorrow.

Sevyn and Aleya’s farewells are drowned out by their quickly increasing distance and the overall loudness of the alley.

When they finally make it outside, the cool breeze of tonight hits her clammy skin. She squeezes his hand tighter.

“Fuckin’ bum ass nigga—I knew I seen him.”

She peers up at him, his eyes staring off into the distance as he speaks his thoughts.

“Should’a fucked him up, if I’m being honest.”

When they reach his car, Ajani opens the passenger door for her. She climbs inside, relieved to be off her feet.

But before he closes the door, he bends down to look her in the eyes.

“You good?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“He didn’t touch you or nothing?”

“No, Ajani. I’m good.” 

With a nod, he shuts the car door and walks over to his side before sliding behind the wheel.

The drive to his apartment is quiet for the first few minutes. Even his music plays low over the speakers.

She watches his side profile, noting the lowness of his eyes and the way his shoulders sag.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes don’t leave the road, but his brows furrow. “For what?”

She only shrugs, the small action enough to garner his attention for just a second.

“You ain’t do shit. That nigga was just a creep.”

“Yeah,” she exhales. 

“Shit, but I definitely shouldn’t be driving right now.” He drags a hand down his face. “Just tryna get in my fuckin’ bed.”

Licking her lips, Diamanté busies her hands by toying with her phone. “Are you really tired?”

He gives her a quick side eye as a lazy smile presents on his face.

“Depends … what you tryna do?”

She looks forward at the nearly empty road ahead of them. Then she shrugs.

“Yeah, I seen the way you was looking at me back at the restaurant... Lil’ freaky ass.”

She laughs just a bit. “It’s been a couple days … what do you expect?”

He scoffs, leaning back in his seat as he leaves one hand on the wheel. “You really sumn else,” he says low, rubbing his chin.

Chewing on her lower lip, she stares at him as a thought brews in her head. Her silence cause him to look her way.

“What you thinkin’ ‘bout over there?”

She releases her bottom lip. Her eyes drop to his lap.

“Can I touch it?”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Could do whatever you want … it’s yours.”

With caution, she slowly reaches over the console and spreads her hand over his lap. She traces the barely-hard length through his jeans.

He retains his composure even as he struggles to focus on driving properly.

“You smelled so good today,” she whispers.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she breathes out. “So fucking good. She laughs softly, pulling a smile out of him.

The more she rubs up on him, the harder he gets. She licks her lips and reaches over with the other hand to unbutton his jeans and zip them down.

She slips a hand between the layer of his jeans and his boxers, feeling him up through the thin fabric.

“When we was at the restaurant, I was thinking of last weekend, when I stayed over.”

Cradling the underside of his dick, her thumb swipes over his fat tip. Excitement races through her as she feels every curve of the mushroom-shaped head.

A faint twitch makes her smile bigger.

“How you was fucking me.”

Her voice slightly lifts at the end of her sentence, as if the thought alone was enough to get her going.

He found that shit so sexy.

Her thumb continues to rub circles into him. However, she also begins to squeeze him in her palm.

Ajani shifts in his seat, his legs widening on their own.

“Fuck, you were so deep, baby.”

She’s squeezing him harder, her little hand working his tip.

“So fucking deep—“

He barely hears the tiny moan that slips out. It takes his attention off of the road for a couple of seconds.

Just long enough for him to catch her with her other hand now between her own legs, dress hiked up around her waist.

He quickly looks away. The sight sends another rush of blood to his dick, and she can feel it as he pulses in her hand.

As one of her hands feels along his length, the other presses against the seat of her damp panties. The pressure pulls a shiver out of her.

“Oh, shit,” she gasps, quietly. “Fuck, I still have to pee.” Her thighs clamp around her wrist as she remembers her plight.

He glances at her again, trying to fight the melting of his brain as she continues to get him off.

“Keep going.”

His raspy voice catches her off guard.

“W-what?”

He licks his lips and swallows, taking a turn onto a major roadway. “Keep touching yourself.”

“I still have to pe—“

“Hold it.”

Her silence earns another look her way.

“I mean it, too. Just got this shit detailed … so don’t fuck up my seats.”

The gentleness of his voice makes her clench.

His head almost falls back when a tight pressure surrounds his balls. It’s hard to keep his eyes open.

Kicking off her sandal, Diamanté pulls a leg up onto the seat. Her French-tipped toes dig into the shiny, smooth leather as she opens herself up wider.

She rubs herself through her thin panties with a full hand. As she falls into a rhythm, both of her hands sync together as she pleasures both herself and Ajani.

Her legs open up even wider as she changes from using her full hand to just her middle and ring fingers. 

Pushed together, she rubs slow, sloppy circles over her clit. The swollen bud pulses, pushing through her thick folds and even creating a small bump through the thin material.

Her wrist aches, but she doesn’t stop. Her pussy clenched repeatedly and her breathing grows unsteady.

Slow, lazy blinks come before her eyes roll back closed. She whimpers to herself.

Ajani tries not to swerve as his brain tries to focus on two things at once. But, he can’t stop his hips from fucking into her hand—even if just a little bit.

Diamanté sends three, solid smacks to her pussy. Upon the third one, her thigh snap shut and her eyes squeeze closed. Her mouth hangs open as her body freezes.

Before she can stop it, her body lets loose for a split second. Just a tiny stream lets out, creating a small soak-spot into her underwear. Immediately, she regains control, stopping her release.

The pace she’d been able to keep up falters as she grows weak from her own hand.

“Keep going,” he tells her.

She shakes her head first. “I … I can’t.”

“Dia—“

“I can’t, I can’t—“

“Move ya hand.” 

He pries her thighs open with his free hand, and snatches hers from between them. 

He replaces her with his touch, cupping the fat mound before sliding his fingers against her. He feels the small wet spot, and it makes his dick harder.

“Told you to hold it.” He lays a smack down on her clit, and her legs try to close around his arm.

A louder moan leaves her this time. But, she holds it as best as she can.

“And keep squeezing my shit,” he says, his voice deep and heavy with lust.

Mewling, she gives her focus to his dick. Rubbing and squeezing it. And when that’s no longer enough, she pulls him out of his boxers.

“Shit…” he exhales in relief.

The hot, length stands stiff in both of her hands. Dribbles of precum run down his length. She’s quick to swipe it up as she twists both hands over him, pulling at the veiny skin.

“Mmh … fuck, baby. J-just like that.”

Ajani doesn’t let that distract him, however. Hand between her legs, he rubs his middle finger over her protruding clit.

She almost cries out as he neglects to touch her, keeping her underwear between them. 

His pointer finger drops down to join the middle. And he pinches her bud. She yelps out.

“Hold it,” he says, pinching harder. “Hold it.”

Her head falls back as she cries out. The dam is about the break, she can feel it. 

Her body goes numb for half a second, and then she feel the wet spot spread just a tiny bit bigger.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming—“

He cups her once more, feeling her clench down on nothing in his hand. The pink G-string clings to her lips, conforming to their shape.

Her hands freeze around his dick, unable to focus on him as she tries to keep herself from finishing completely over his seats.

“We almost there … almost there,” he soothes, turning into his building’s parking lot.

After regaining her composure, Dia tucks him back in his pants and zips him back up.

Ajani removes his hand as he parks in his designated spot, giving her the chance to fix herself.

When they get out the car, it’s a bit of relief. However, Ajani still has to make it to his apartment without being caught with this boner.

Watching Dia walk ahead of him to get into the main building, he gets an idea.

It’s hard to concentrate as they stand there waiting for the elevator. There’s no one in the lobby, but that doesn’t make her any less nervous.

Standing, her backside pressed to his front, she feels his dick poking at her. 

Ajani’s so hard, it almost aches. He kisses his teeth, and his hand on her hip squeezes harder.

“Where this fuckin’ elevator at? Not tryna be waiting here all night.”

As he talks, his hips move just a bit, pushing his dick harder into the fat of her ass. It’s not helping, honestly.

But, much to her relief, the elevator finally arrives with a sharp ding. They walk in and Ajani is quick to press the button to the eleventh floor.

It seems like time slows as the shaft achingly climbs the floors. Dia doesn’t get to watch the numbers change as a hand comes around her neck and squeezes—her eyes flutter shut.

“Can’t wait to ruin yo shit,” he whispers in her ear. “Have you bouncing on my dick.”

She moans softly as his hand tightens.

He sucks his teeth. “Matter fact—“

It must be the liquor that has him doing this, and what’s got her letting it happen.

In one second, she’s bent over, her hands bracing the wall before her as he stands behind.

“Should just fuck ya lil’ ass in here.”

He smacks her left cheek before rutting into her. He spreads her ass with both hands, rubbing his clothed dick into her core.

“O-oh fuck,” she whimpers. The friction has her legs trembling.

“Keep fuckin’ moaning,” he pants, fucking against her. His eyes almost roll back and his balls tighten in his pants.

“Baby—“

Slapping a hand over her mouth, she tries to keep quiet … and from cumming.

Backing up just an inch, he instead holds her by her waist and bounces her hard against him. She almost wails, her pussy craving to be filled.

But her torture ends soon as the elevator dings again, announcing their arrival to the eleventh floor. They waste no time getting out and making their way to his front door. 

When they come to it, he hands her his keys as he remains behind her. She almost fumbles them, her hands shaking.

He grabs onto her hips again, gripping tightly.

“Hurry up … you’on feel that?”

The gravel of his voice makes her shiver, and the way his dick is pressed into her ass almost makes her eyes roll back.

His face drops into the crook of her neck and shoulder to press a kiss into her warm skin.

“He missed you, baby.”

The slight slur in his voice drives her crazy. But, not more than the way he presses his hips harder against her.

Click, the door goes as she finally unlocks it. The rush of air that hits them as she pushes it open is refreshing. It clears her senses for just half-a-second before her brain is plunged back into a hot pool of lust.

Ajani’s got his hands on her, spinning her around to press a wet kiss onto her lips. A heavy moan slips out of her as he squeezes her throat.

He sucks on her tongue like it’s his only lifeline, enjoying the taste of her spit too much.

His free hand encircles her waist and heads down to grip as much fat as it could.

The burn of his grip has her clenching in her panties. He pulls out of the kiss just to look her in the eyes.

“Take this stupid ass dress off before I rip it.”

His grip on her throat tightens and she feels herself go dumb a little bit. She nods.

He lets go of her completely, just to watch her pull the black dress over her head. 

All she’s got on is that tiny ass, pink G-string, no bra. The fabric is drenched with a wet stain as it clings to her. And her lips are damn near spilling out of it.

“Not even gonna be able to walk when I done with you,” he mumbles, staring at her as he squeezes his dick through his pants.

“Wait, I wanna do something else first.”

Diamanté’s gaze drops to the hard outline of his dick—so thick and long.

“Yeah?” He looks at her with low eyes, paying keen attention to the outline of her fat pussy. “What you tryna do?”

She starts towards him, walking slow. 

“I wanna suck it.”

His brows lift as an inkling of a smile is on his lips. “Oh, word?”

“Yeah.”

She stops right before him. A gentle push to his chest sends a big enough of message—he falls back onto his couch. And his eyes follow her as she gets down on her knees before him.

She crawls to him, sitting between his legs. Even pushes them apart wider. He almost shivers at her delicate touch on his knees.  

“Would you let me?”

She blinks up at him as her hands snake their way up his thighs and into his lap. He slips further down into the couch, biting his lip as he watches her undo his pants for the second time tonight.

She gets a peek of those grills again, and she just finds them so sexy.

“Awe shit, baby, you could do whatever you want…”

His aid comes as he lifts his hips as she drags the heavy denim down his legs. Drunken giggles pour out from her lips as she eyes his print through his boxers.

Even through the thin fabric, the familiar heat of her palm makes his dick twitch. He has to stop himself from humping into her hand as she grips along his length.

Her laughter melts away as she watches his face with a luring smile. 

“You’re so wet, baby.”

He almost doesn’t even hear her soft voice. But when he does, he looks down and notices the dark spot on his boxers.

“Shit … that’s all you,” he mumbles. His eyes bore into her as she pulls him out of his underwear.

He’s stiff and heavy in her hand. Her smaller fingers squeeze him just a bit tighter, a weak attempt at trying to get a better grip on him. 

It amuses him, seeing how the tips of her fingers don’t even meet when they’re around him.

The warmth blossoming under his skin goads her to run a fist over his length.

“You know how to do it?” he asks her.

She nods before looking back up at him. Looking into his eyes, she can tell that he’s fighting to stay present.

But with the liquor in both their systems, and lust running through their bodies, she can understand how difficult that must be for him.

“You don’t gotta … take it all,” he swallows.

His thigh twitches; Her tongue laves against the underside of the warm, soft tip. She holds him as she circles her tongue around the head, shining it with her spit. 

“Fuck,” he hisses softly, body melting into the couch cushions.

She brushes her tongue against him, picking up a perfect bead of precum just as it dribbles out.

He inhales, shifting in the seat. “Spit on my shit.”

Puckering her lips, she spits it back out on his tip and spreads it across his skin.

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

Holding him at the base, she takes his head back into her mouth. His stomach swoops and his breath stutters. 

Diamanté almost giggles, feeling his tip pulse in her mouth. She pulls off of him with a pop. 

She repeats the action a couple of more times, going pop … pop … pop! She enjoys too much how he groans above her.

“Stop playing, baby, c’mon.”

The sound of him begging makes her clit pulse. 

“Okay, okay,” she says softly, batting her lashes up at him.

Taking a deep inhale, she places her mouth back over the head. Slackening her jaw, she slowly descends his length.

“Awe … shiii,” he stares down at her in shock.

Already, her jaw aches, having to accommodate his size. She gets about halfway.

“Mmmh.”

The vibration of her hums make his toes curl. He jumps with a hiss. The movement gags her, and the sound only arouses him.

“T-take your time, baby—“ he grunts. “You don’t gotta—“

He chokes on his own words as he watches her continue to swallow him with a bit of effort. The sight has him clutching the couch cushions.

Her throat constricts around his dick as she bottoms out. She nuzzles her nose against the small bush of dark curls at his base.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, shifting his hips a bit.

Her eyes flutter close as she relishes the heavy weight her throat holds. His dick twitches, pulling a soft gag out of her.

He loves the sound.

Spit seeps from her mouth, dripping down his length. Trying to swallow around him is difficult.

Carefully, she lays her head against his open lap. She exhales through her nose, trying to relax as she suckles on him.

It’s almost addicting, having his dick stuff her mouth to the brim. She’s content … until she remembers her own arousal.

Her knees burn, but nevermind that. She brings a hand between her thick thighs, whimpering as she caresses herself.

The pads of her fingers slide back and forth over the soaked scrap of fabric covering her pussy.

Her thighs clench around her wrist. But still, she continues, sliding the tips of her acrylic nails against her aching pearl.

He watches her eyes open for just a second, only to showcase how they roll back. Her shoulders twitch.

“You touchin’ yourself?”

She barely nods as another twitch rakes throughout her body.

The already wet patch of her panties grows warmer as she leaks more arousal. Her fingers rub harder and her pussy spasms.

“Mmh—“

She whines around his dick, and his hips stutter.

“So fuckin’ nasty,” he groans. “Like my dick in your mouth.”

Another whimper.

Peeling a hand from the armrest of the couch, Ajani reaches for her straightened hair and gathers it in a tight ponytail.

“Relax your throat,” is his only warning.

Long, slow strokes have her gagging on him. The back or her throat makes wet clicks as his dick fucks the back of her throat.

Tears bubble in Diamanté’s eyes as her head bobs. Shaky fingers push her soaked panties to the side as she rubs through her sticky, creamy folds.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” he says through gritted teeth. 

She plays in her mess, webs of cream sticking to the pads of her fingers and her pink clit.

His hold around her hair tightens and his pace quickens. Her gags become harsher and louder as he face-fucks her.

A squeal sounds at the back of her throat as she DJs herself quickly. Her chest stutters as it gets harder to breathe with her choking on him. 

Her body tightens then releases; She sprays against her fingers and the hardwood floor. The hard stream catches his ears, making him sit up to watch.

The whites of her eyes are the only things that show as she cups herself between her legs.

A gooey mess of her spit and his precum drip down his balls and even her face, droplets falling on her bare chest.

“Shit, baby … awe shit,” he groans, head thrown back and mouth dropped open.

His stomach clenches as his brows pull together.

“I’m bout’a … c-cum—fuck.”

He pushes her head all the way down, holding her there as he fucks up into her. She tightens her throat around him, sending him over the edge.

Ropes of cum shoot down her throat, sending her pulling off of him in a coughing fit. 

When she calms, she pulls her hand from between her shaking thighs. It’s messy with the remnants of her cream and squirt.

She wraps it around him and spits his cum back on his dick.

It’s a bubbly, frothy mess. She jerks him off, milking him for the rest of his release as she mixes their cum and her spit together.

“So fuckin’ dirty,” he rasps, his body sagging against the chair.

The squelches of her fist over his dick is music to their ears. Her hand glides with ease as she squeezes him tighter.

“Beatin’ my shit so good.”

Breathy laughter pours out of her as she sticks out her tongue and flattens it. Staring into his low eyes, she taps his dick against the bed of her tongue.

She slides the pink muscle against him before flicking it twice against his leaky slit. He shivers beneath her, and she feeds off the reaction.

Taking his head back into her mouth, she sucks on it with her lips as she digs out his slit with her tongue.

He’s a whining mess as she overstimulates him.

“Fuck baby … fuuuck baby—fuck babyy—“

Ajani’s head falls back against the cushions and his eyes roll back. He opens his mouth to cry out:

“F-fuuuuuck—“

Lifting from him quickly, she taps him against her tongue as he erupts. His cum paints the pink muscle in white ropes.

“So good,” she hums, still tugging at him.

His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath and calm his beating heart. His ears ring and his vision’s got dots.

It takes him too long to return back to earth, as if she had hard reset him. 

But, that’s not where their night ends—far from it, actually.

[fanficimagery]

Violent Little Thing

To the Sons of Anarchy, you're just Happy's neighbor that doesn't care for drama or the fact that they wear kuttes. But in actuality, you've dealt and probably have done far worse, and it isn't until you're kidnapped that they find out your secret.

Author's Note: Long time no see, huh? Does this mean I'm back? Hell no. This has been sitting in my drafts since mid-2023 and thought it was time to go out. For never having seen more than a few episodes, I love these SOA boys. I'm not super familiar with the lingo or clubhouse etiquette, so this is gonna take place away from that particular setting. Trigger warning for graphic violence and attempted sexual assault (it doesn't get far). Reader is gonna be a little… off the rails. Blame all the dark romance I've been reading lmao.

Before moving into your new home, you knew it was going to be a fixer upper. Fortunately for you, you loved working with your hands, and after having been banished to Charming in hopes of calming your inner demons, you were going to have a lot of time to do just that. But the joke was on your family because there was no calming your demons. People just needed to learn to not piss you the fuck off.

When you get to the house, however, you see that a majority of the work has already been done for you. The only thing left for you to do is paint the walls, rearrange furniture, and unbox your belongings. The electricity and water are already turned on, and wifi has been installed with your password on a sticky note.

The master bedroom is huge and you love it, but you don't have nearly enough belongings to fill it. Your queen-sized bed looks tiny and you immediately want something bigger. So heading back outside to your vehicle, you grab your bag that has your laptop inside and head back in. Setting up at your kitchen island, you search for a place that will deliver any type of food and beverage. You find a pizzeria just on the outskirts of town that will deliver to Charming, so you place a quick order. It's a forty minute wait period, so to pass the time you start looking up bedroom ideas.

You run across a California king bed, but none really catch your eye. What does catch your eye, however, are the DIY beds that touch from one side of the wall to the other. You take your laptop back to your bedroom so see if it's do-able, and come to the conclusion that it is. You'll have to add some floating shelves since you won't be able to have bedside tables, but that's perfectly fine with you. You then take the time to get down the measurements of your room because you still have to situate your dresser and mount your TV to the wall, and you need to make sure everything will fit.

Eventually your food gets there and, sitting at the kitchen island, you dig in. You slowly eat and drink your fill, and then place any leftovers in the already cool refrigerator.

Needing some bathroom necessities and sheets for your current bed, you unload your vehicle. You place each box in their respective rooms, but leave them mostly boxed up. And not wanting to get any TV's mounted or bed fully put together since you still have to paint the walls, you remain on your laptop to pass the time and send messages to your family to let them know you're okay.

It takes you a couple of weeks to build your bed frame, get in your special ordered mattress, and paint the walls to your liking. You do most of your building in the driveway, so you've become accustomed to the people living on your street, waving at them as they pass or call out a greeting. But there's one individual everyone seems to steer clear of or avoid eye contact with, and that's your next door neighbor who rides a motorcycle and proudly wears a Sons of Anarchy kutte.

You had first seen the intimidating, bald man when he showed up a couple days after you moved in. You'd looked up when you heard the rumblings of engines and watched two motorcycles pull into the driveway next door. You paused hammering for a moment, nodded at the two men who took a moment to stare back, and then went back to work.

Over the next few days, men came and went from next door. And each time, they were intrigued watching you work. But eventually your bed frame was finished and you had to situate it in your bedroom. Maneuvering the mattress was no easy feat, but you were not about to ask for help, and it didn't take you long to finally finish furnishing your home to your liking.

As busy as you've been, you haven't really had the time to eat a home cooked meal. So after everything, you took a trip to the grocery store and bought hundreds of dollars of food and drink to stock your kitchen with.

The air is finally cool and crisp, so all the windows to your home are wide open. You'd been feeling a little restless, so you opted to cook a meal that would keep you busy. Enchiladas, rice, and beans is one of your favorite meals, so after making sure you have everything, you put a pot of beans to cook. They have to cook for a few hours, so while that's going on you get online to check in with your family.

When the beans are done, you get started on browning hamburger meat. Setting a majority of the meat aside, you use only a bit for the enchilada sauce. You pour in water, flour, spices, and some canned chili until it's to your liking, and then heat up some corn tortillas before you start rolling the enchiladas. After they're in a pan that holds far too many for only you, you pour the enchilada sauce on top before shredding some cheese atop of it. Once that's in the oven, you get started on a pan of rice.

It's when the rice is boiling that your doorbell rings. A little tired and more than a little hungry, you grab up your beer after turning off the rice, and take a swig of it on your way to the door. Since the door is wide open, you can easily see who's standing just on the other side of the screen door. It's one of the Sons, one of the only two with brown skin that you've seen so far. But this isn't the intimidating bald one, this is the one with a shaved mohawk down the center of his head and a killer smile.

You arch an eyebrow at him as he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and you take another swig of beer as you lean against the door jamb. "Yes?"

The corner of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens. "Hi. Uh, me and my boys are chilling next door and we couldn't help but smell whatever it is you're eating. You mind sharing the name of the place where you picked up your food from so we can go get some too? Smells really good."

Your lips twitch. "Who said I picked anything up?"

"You cooking?" His eyes widen. "Bullshit."

You huff a laugh and nod. "YN."

"Juice."

"Mhmm." You push the door open just enough so you can lean out and peer next door, catching sight of two men sitting sideways on the seats of their bike. "Just you three?"

"Yeah."

You hum again and then back into your home as the screen door shuts quietly. "I've been watching you guys come and go, nodding cordially when our gazes clash," you say. "If you're willing to leave your shoes by the front door, you're more than welcome to pull up a seat at the table."

"Forreal?"

"Sure." You shrug. "I never learned how to cook for one, so I might have made an entire tray of enchiladas that will most likely go to waste if someone else doesn't eat them."

"Oh hell yeah." Juice turns, cupping his hands around his mouth as he says, "Yo! Free meal! Get over here!"

You watch as one man eagerly gets off his bike, whooping in delight of free food. The other, the one you believe actually lives next door, casually gets up at a leisurely pace. You push open the screen door as they're stomping up your porch steps, and Juice introduces you to Tig and Happy. You do your best not to smile because Happy does not look quite so happy, but he grunts a greeting when you tell them your name.

As Juice steps into your home, he's quick to kick off his shoes and tell his boys to do the same. They do and then you lead the way to the kitchen, pointing at your table. "Siéntate."

"Ohhh. A Spanish lady," Tig muses as Juice translates for him to sit down as you instructed. When you glance at him, his wild-crazed gaze makes you snort. "I like 'em a little spicy."

"And I like 'em less talkative." Happy and Juice both snort, and Tig beams at your sassy retort. "Beer or soda?"

Tig and Happy take beers, and Juice takes a soda. You serve them each their own plate of three enchiladas, a scoop of rice, and a scoop of beans. You serve yourself last with a glass of water, and finally take a seat to dig into all your hard work.

"Goddamn," Tig grumbles after his first bite of everything. "This is some Mexican restaurant level shit here."

You grin as you eat at your own pace, feeling content at watching three grown men finding your cooking delicious.

"So what's your story?" Juice asks. "In all the times I've come around, it's just you here."

"That's because it is just me here."

"Why Charming?"

You take a moment to swallow your food, washing it all down with a sip of water as you lean back in your chair. Then glancing between each man and the patches on their kuttes, you ask, "Do you want the real story or the story I'm feeding anyone who asks in polite small talk when they see a new face in the store?"

All three men slow their eating, their gazes sliding up to you in surprise.

"What's the story you tellin' the locals?" Tig asks.

Placing a hand over your heart and changing your voice so you sound like a southern belle, you say, "Just that I just left a very nasty relationship and my family thought I deserved a fresh start away from the man who dared lift a fist in my direction."

Tig snorts. "And the real story?"

You chuckle as your voice goes back to normal. "My family thought I needed to calm my inner demons, so they banished me to Charming. Joke's on them, I've made peace with my demons. It's not my fault people keep pissing me off."

Tig and Juice laugh as Happy smirks at you.

"What'd you do to earn banishment?" Juice wonders.

You shrug. "I wasn't joking about the nasty relationship. I just leave out the small detail that once I was out of the hospital, I went crawling back to my dickhead of an ex-fiancé and plotted my revenge."

"Crazy and you can cook. Marry me," Tig says.

You shake your head at him, eating a bit more before finishing the story. "I was raised to take no shit from anyone. So after he put me in the hospital, I made him believe all was well. Then one night, when he least suspected it, I slipped him a little something so he was conscious, but paralyzed, and set fire to his house."

The three men freeze, but you continue eating as if it was no big deal.

"Did you- did you kill him?" Juice warily asks.

"Unfortunately, no." You pout and then laugh at their awed expressions. "He had nosy neighbors so they were able to get the firetrucks there as soon as they smelled smoke. But when my family found out, they said I was sloppy, so I got shipped out here."

"Yoo.. what the fuck?" A moment of quiet ensues and then Juice is laughing. "That has to be the craziest shit I've heard in a while."

"I highly doubt that." Your gaze drops to the patch on his kutte. "I'm sure you've heard, seen, or taken part of some pretty crazy shit." When you meet his gaze again, you smirk. "Am I wrong?"

Juice grins and then looks at Happy. "Your neighbor is cool as shit. I'm kind of jealous." The air of amusement lingers as everyone continues to eat. "So what do you do for work?"

"I do some IT stuff for my family." You shrug. "I can work from anywhere, so I guess I'll still be doing that. What about you boys? What do you do other than ride?"

"We work at Teller Automotive," Tig says. "Only car garage in town."

"Really? Do you guys have any openings this week? I need my oil changed."

"Sure. We'll leave a number before we leave."

The rest of dinner is spent with the men telling you what there is to do in Charming and asking how long you plan on staying. You're not really sure, but if you end up liking Charming then you have no issues setting down roots. And then when dinner is done and you've seemed to exhaust all the small talk topics, you plate up the leftovers and send the men on their way.

Over the next couple of weeks, you befriend your neighbor. You take your vehicle into Teller Automotive and Happy takes it upon himself to take care of it for you. Tig and Juice had kept you company, and introduced you to a few of their other brothers when they took interest in their new friend. You were invited to one of their parties and, after some pressuring, you went. Nothing shocked you, not even a few members of the club getting head in plain sight, but Happy apparently shocked everyone else by gluing himself to your side. According to the club President, Happy was normally found in the ring outside or fucking his way through croweaters, but that night he made sure that no one bothered you.

Then more often than not, Happy reaped the benefits of your cooking and appeared for dinner before taking leftovers home for lunch.

In such a short period of time, you grow accustomed to the stern biker's company.

One morning, you're startled awake by the doorbell ringing and a fist pounding on the door. You sit up and scoot out of bed, hurrying towards your front door in a groggy, yet panicked state. But before you pull the door open, you peer out one of the thin windows on one side of your door. It takes a moment for you to realize it's Happy and that the sky behind him is still dark.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open. "What the fuck, Hap? What's going on?"

With a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, Happy looks you up and down. "You always answer the door like this or am I just special?"

You freeze and then glance down, rolling your eyes when you remember you went to sleep in a gray wife beater, that makes it very obvious you're not wearing a bra, and a pair of hipster underwear. "Neither. You're lucky."

"Sure." You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks. "I forgot the bills were due and everything got shut off. Can I crash here until I get it sorted?"

Without missing a beat, you say, "Yeah," and step back from the door, opening it wider. "Shoes off. You know where the bathroom is and I'm pretty sure you can find the guest bedroom." You yawn and lock the door behind your friend. "What time is it?"

"Little after five."

"Happy," you whine. "S'too fuckin' early. M'going back to bed." As you pad back to your room, you don't hear any footsteps behind you. "Stop staring at my ass!"

"Can't help it. Might start dropping by early now."

"Do it and die, Lowman." Stopping and turning, you point an accusatory finger at him. "Do not come in between me and my bed. I will murder you."

His lips twitch. "Worth it."

. .

. .

It takes less than a week for Happy to get his power and water turned back on, and then he's back at his house. Though there are times when he shows up for dinner, dropping off on your couch when he's too tired to walk back home. Normally you would mind, but Happy knew how to clean up after himself, so you didn't mind that it seemed he was practically half moved in.

One night, you get a call from your brother that they need you to come in and work on cracking the passwords on a few laptops they'd gotten their hands on. You agreed, but first you needed to arrange someone to look after your house.

The next afternoon, you show up to Teller Automotive. You find Happy on a smoke break and ask him for a favor. When you ask him if he can keep an eye on your house for two days, he seems surprised, even more so when you give him a copy of your house key. You tell him he can crash there and eat whatever food you have so long as he doesn't trash the place. He readily agrees.

And when you return two days later, you realize you should have specified that he could crash in the guest bedroom. Finding a nearly naked Happy in your bed isn't half bad, nor is the firmness of his ass when you smack a hand down on it to wake him up.

Immediately he jerks awake, twisting his body as he sits up, and pointing a gun right at your face. You laugh and lick the tip of the barrel while wiggling your eyebrows at him. "Wakey, wakey."

"You're a fuckin' pyscho," he grumbles, lowering his gun.

"Yeah, well duh. You should have had that figured out a long time ago." He rolls his eyes before turning to drop down face first back into your pillow, shoving his gun back under it. You grin. "Was there something wrong with the guest room you've been using?"

"No. I just didn't know how fuckin' massive your bed was. It looked lonely without a body in it."

"Mhmm. I'm sure." He grunts and you chuckle as you crawl out of the bed. "I'm gonna go pick up some breakfast from the diner. Want anything?"

"Anything and everything."

"Gotcha. I'll text you when I'm on my way back."

. .

. .

The dynamic between you and Happy ended up changing after that fateful morning. When he slept over, it was in your bed. You hadn't crossed the line past lingering touches or innuendos, but it was a given that he was the only person allowed in your bed. You didn't care for the croweaters at the parties his club put on every Friday night, but the two of you made a statement when he rolled up one night with you seated behind him.

The Sons nearly gaped as Happy amped up his protectiveness, pulling you between his parted thighs as he took a seat on a stool at the bar. Tig and Juice had walked over, and Happy perched you on his knee as you joked with his brothers. The croweaters didn't bother to hide their glares or sneers, but you merely smirked at their cattiness and took to scratching the back of Happy's head with your nails when you'd draped your arm around his shoulders.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax, the club president, had asked.

You shrugged and grinned. "We're friends."

"Friends don't stake claims."

"We're possessive friends."

Happy had snorted but didn't correct you.

From there on out, it was known that you were Happy's.

The Sons are relaxing at the clubhouse after a long day's work when blacked out Escalades and BMW's pull up. The atmosphere immediately goes from relaxed to tense, and the Sons flank their President when he walks out to the lot to see what the deal is.

Thug after thug exit the vehicles before opening the doors on two Escalades, ushering out four well-dressed men. None of them look like they'd be a person to fuck with, so Jax is extremely curious as to what the fuck is going on.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eyebrow arches as tattooed thugs flank the apparent important men.

"I hope you can." The one in charge reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a picture. "What do you know about this woman?"

When Jax is shown a picture, he mentally curses. It's Happy's neighbor and a friend to many Sons. He keeps his expression neutral, before shrugging. "Nothing. Should I?"

"She's my baby sister."

"Oh hell…"

"YN never misses check-in and she's missed two," the man explains. "It's come to my attention that she's made some connections to Happy Lowman, Juan Ortiz, and Tig Trager- all Sons of Anarchy. Do you understand why I'm here now?"

"Fuck, man, we didn't know. What can we do?"

"You can start by questioning your men to see if they'd heard from her."

At that, Tig steps forward. "I haven't seen or spoken with YN in a little over a week."

"What about Juan or Happy?"

Jax looks at his gathered men, frowning. "Where are Juice and Happy?" No one says anything, looking as confused as their President when they don't see their familiar faces. Then raising his voice, he asks, "Has anyone heard from Happy or Juice today?" Nothing. No one utters a peep. "What about yesterday?"

"Jax." Opie has his phone to ear, shaking his head. "Both are going to voicemail."

"Shit." Then turning around to face the slowly darkening expressions of YN's apparent brothers, Jax asks, "How can we help?"

. .

. .

When your eyes flutter open, every inch of your body is in pain.

"How the fuck does my hair hurt?" You groan. You try to sit up, but realize you're on your side, on dirt and hay, with your hands tied behind your back. "What the actual fuck?" Clearing your vision, you see that you're not alone. Happy and Juice are with you, but they're in chairs with their hands tied behind their backs and looking a little beat up.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Juice tiredly muses.

"What happened?" Maneuvering around some, you manage to sit up.

"Kidnapped," Happy says. "They injected us with some shit, but they gave you too much."

You grimace as you roll your neck. "Dicks." It's dim in the empty barn you're being kept in, but you can see sunlight through the cracks of the walls. There are stalls for animals on either side of you, all empty, and a table filled with various blades and weapons not too far away. Your aching arms are your main priority though, so you move into a crouch and wiggle your tied wrists under your butt. With a grunt, you fall backward and maneuver your hands until they're situated in front of you. "Ah. That's better."

"Get up and grab a blade so we can get the fuck outta here," Happy urges.

You do as you're told, mentally scoffing at the thought that these morons didn't think to bind your ankles. Unfortunately, you're not so lucky as someone had been watching from the shadows. So just as you're reaching for a blade, that someone jumps out at you and roughly pins you against the table.

Bent over with your arms above your head and someone pressed up right against you, you immediately start thrashing and cussing out whoever it is. Happy and Juice shout, and start wriggling in their own seats when a hand then pins you to the table by the back of your neck.

"So close, princesa." A man tuts and you jerk in his hold, but still he persists. Laughter causes you to look up, watching as another two men step out from behind Happy and Juice. "Is that anyway to talk to your host?"

"Fuck. Off."

"Oh, I will." Just then, a hand grips your waist and squeezes, and you freeze. "Just not yet. I have some questions for you."

"Don't you fucking touch her."

When you glance up at Happy, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. You know what he does for the Sons, but you'd never seen that particular dark look or glint in his eyes, and for a moment it steals your breath away. Then you remember that look isn't meant for you, and you squirm a little as the man behind you laughingly presses his pelvis into your ass. "Or what?"

Juice answers, "Or we'll fucking kill you."

That causes all three men to laugh some more.

"Doubtful. But thanks for the laugh." Then the man behind you focuses on you once again. "Besides, my business isn't with you, but with the princesa de la mafia."

You tense. "I don't know anything."

"Aw. Of course, you don't," the man coos. "I would hope that your brothers are smart enough to never let a woman in on their secrets. But then again, you are the baby sister of one of the most dangerous mafias in the United States. I'm pretty sure you know something that I can use to hurt those brothers of yours."

You manage to angle your head just enough so you can make eye contact with Happy. He meets your stare, and you see it subtly soften, but then he's glaring at the man holding you once more. "I won't sell out my brothers."

"No?" The man releases your neck, only to trail his fingers down from your ribs to hips. "I don't want to mess up such a pretty face, but you do know there are other ways to break you and get you to talk, right?"

And then before you can answer, he's grabbing the back hem of your shirt and ripping it down the middle.

You yelp just as Happy shouts, "You motherfucker!", and squirm to get away. Across from you, Happy and Juice are pummeled a few times until they stop trying to break the chairs they're bound to.

The man rubs a hand up and down your back, fiddling with your bra strap, but never unsnapping it. You feel gross, but it's only when the guy reaches around to fiddle with the button on your jeans does red cloud your vision.

"Hey, Hap?" You manage to meet Happy's livid gaze. "Remember when I spoke about my demons?"

"Yeah."

"They desperately wanna come out to play."

"Shut the fuck up, you whore!" The man slaps you across the back of your head and you grit your teeth, biding your time.

Happy slowly smirks. "Then let them out to play, baby."

The moment the button on your jeans is opened, you scream at a pitch that startles every man in the room. Then pushing up as much as you can, you headbutt the man behind you. As he swears, you reach for the first handle you see and are pleasantly surprised to find a small machete. Then without even thinking, you whirl around and swing the blade, catching your would-be abuser in the neck with the blade.

Blood sprays as you immediately tug the blade free, leaving the man to try and cover his wound as he splutters on his own life force. From the corner of your eye, you see someone running at you, but another swing of the machete finds a home in the second man's face.

As the man falls back with a scream unlike anything you've ever heard, he takes the machete with him. Happy and Juice shout at you, and it's then you remember the third. He's running at you, a small blade in hand, and you reach for the nearest weapon. It's a metal bat and just as you rear back to swing, he swings first. The blade makes contact with your bicep, slicing it open, but you only feel the sting of it after you swing.

The bat clips the man in the jaw, stunning him. As he stumbles back, you advance. He sloppily swipes at you again, but you dodge it. The second hit with the bat hits true, catching him in the temple.

The man falls and you're quick to stand over him, bringing the bat down a third time.

The bat connecting for a fourth time makes Juice cringe, but Happy proudly watches on.

Thwack.

Thwack. A scream.

Crack!

"Shit. I think that was his skull," Juice mutters.

YN screams as she continues to wail on the man with her bat, caving his skull further and further in, to the point there's now a puddle of blood beneath his head and splattering with every pull back.

The barn doors open, and Happy and Juice tense when armed men start to file in, but they exhale with relief when they see Jax, Tig, Chibs, and Opie in the mix. All the unfamiliar men take in the scene with an air of indifference, but it's the expressions of the Sons that almost make Happy laugh out loud. They'd only known YN to laugh, feed them, or threaten the croweaters with violence. None of them, with the exception of himself, Juice, and Tig, knew the violence she was capable of.

"Uh, a little help?" Juice calls out. "My arms are killing me over here."

Tig rushes over, pulling out a blade to cut his brothers free. "What the fuck happened?"

"One of them threatened to rape her and she just lost her shit."

Juice is cut free first, and he immediately stands, rubbing his raw wrists. As Jax checks in with him, Happy is cut free.

"Boss, should we stop this?" Someone asks.

Happy looks over in time to see a guy in a suit grimace when blood is flung onto his pristine boots. "Do you want to get in the middle of that? You know how YN is. Let's just let her run out of steam."

As the guy steps back in line with a nod of agreement, Happy huffs and stands. He stalks over to YN until he's behind her. Then when she raises the bat high above her head, Happy lunges. He manages to grip the bat where it isn't slick and pulls it from YN's grasp.

Still very much livid, especially now that your weapon's been ripped from you, you whirl around to start screaming expletives and pummel whoever it is with your bound fists. Instead, arms are wrapped around you, keeping your arms stuck between your chest and another, and there's a gruff voice in your ear saying, "It's over. It's over, baby. The cavalry's here. You can stop now."

It takes a long minute for the voice to infiltrate the fog of rage, and then a moment to realize who's speaking.

When your struggles cease, Happy leans back a little to look down at you, but with his arms still wrapped around you. "You back?"

"Y-Yeah. M'sorry."

Happy grunts and leans his face closer to yours, and for a moment you think he's about to kiss you. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours as his eyes close, and he exhales with relief. "Don't be. That was hot as fuck."

You huff a quiet laugh as a bout of silence ensues, but then one of your brothers decides to ruin it.

"Hey, Lowman, we'll give you a million dollars if you give her your last name and take her off our hands."

You jerk in Happy's hold, turning to glare at all your smirking brothers. "Fuck off!" Laughter ensues at your disgruntled expression before Juice fills them in on what happened, and then Happy is tugging on your bound wrists so you look back at him before finally cutting you free. "Thank you."

One hand grasps the hair at the back of your head, gripping a little tight as he holds you in place so he can press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get you home. You're covered in blood, and I need to take a look at your arm."

Glancing at your arm, you shrug. It stings, yeah, but it doesn't seem deep enough. And then just as you go to take a step, Happy swoops you up into a bridal carry.

It's then you notice that you, Happy, and Juice are all barefoot, and it's Juice who answers your unasked question. "You sleep like the dead, girl. Happy and I heard them enter the house, but they still managed to get the drop on us."

"I'm getting you a goddamn dog," Happy grumbles in response.

"Only if you clean up after it." He grunts and you grin. If he wanted a guard dog for you, then he was cleaning up any messes.

Outside the barn, suggestions are made about where to go now. Jax suggests the clubhouse, but at the wrinkling of your nose, Happy says you'll be going home. Your brothers mention not everyone can go because that many vehicles will draw attention, so Jax suggests sending your brothers' men back to the club with Opie and Chibs. They agree, and then you're loaded up into an Escalade with your brothers and Happy.

When you get to your house, Tig mentions that they had cleaned up and straightened your furniture after they figured out what had happened. You thank him and let Happy carry you to your bathroom while Juice takes the guest bathroom.

As Happy sets you on the counter, you watch as he gets the first aid kit from beneath your sinks. "They're gonna talk."

"Let them. The club already thinks we're fuckin'."

You snort. "Please. They should know by now that I'd never settle for a relationship where the guy gets to fuck around when he's on the road." Happy freezes with the antiseptic spray bottle in his hand before shaking himself free of thought and spritzing your arm where you were cut.

"Is that why you haven't given me the go-ahead to slip between your thighs?"

You smile at his blunt question and then wince when he wipes your arm clean. "Pretty much. I'm not a fan of my partner sticking his dick or tongue in some rando pussy, then coming home and doing the same to me." Happy grunts and you arch an eyebrow at him. "Would you be okay with me visiting my brothers and sucking someone's dick before coming home to you?"

"Fuck no."

"Exactly." You grin triumphantly. "So, unless you plan to stop dicking down croweaters or sweetbutts, the most you'll get out of me is some cuddling."

Stepping back, Happy tosses the used gauze pads into the trashcan and then reaches into your shower stall to turn on the water. Then looking at you, he demands, "Strip."

"If I fully strip, there's no going back. You're mine and mine alone." You hop off the counter, slipping off your ruined shirt without batting an eye. "I was calm and collected at your parties before because we're friends, but that all changes after this. I won't take it easy on any woman touching what's mine."

Happy smirks as he eyes you in your bra and jeans, and then strips off his shirt. "Good."

You've seen the man shirtless only a handful of times, but seeing his ink never fails to give you pause. You reach out for the first time, tracing the snake tattoo that takes up a majority of his chest and upper abdomen, before you trace the various happy faces on the side of his waist. You feel his abdominal muscles twitch and then between one heartbeat and the next, Happy's crowding you against the sink counter and angling your head up.

His kiss is as aggressive as you figured it'd be, his tongue sliding against yours and teeth digging into your bottom lip. You give as good as you get, nails digging into either side of Happy's waist as you kiss him. Then when the need for air arises, you pull back and try to catch your breath. "Well okay then."

Moving out from Happy's reach, you strip, uncaring of your nudity and then step into the steaming shower. Happy isn't too far behind you, but you're not too interested in seeing him fully naked as you are cleansing a stranger's blood from your body. Standing under the waterfall, you watch as the shower floor turns red. Happy presses in close behind you so he's under the water as well, and you straighten up before leaning your head back onto his shoulder, smiling softly at his hardness that presses against your ass.

"No funny business, Lowman. At least not until we've eaten a fuck ton and slept for a day or two."

He grunts. "Agreed."

You immediately start washing your hair, and you're surprised when Happy takes it upon himself to lather up some soap on your bath pouf to wash your body. For the most part he behaves himself, but when his thumb oh so casually brushes over your nipples, you slap his thigh and pay him back when it's your turn to wash him. He grunts when you take his dick in hand and thrusts into your soapy palm, but you quickly release him to finish washing his body.

"Fuckin' tease."

"You started it."

You get out of the shower first, smirking as Happy tells you he'll be out in a moment. You know exactly what that moment's going to entail since his hand is already stroking his cock before you can even find a towel.

"You gonna want something to eat?"

"Send Tig to get burgers and fries."

"Alright."

Back in your room, you can hear a muttered conversation from somewhere in your house. Clutching the towel around your body, you stick your head out your door. "Tig!"

"What?"

"Happy said to go get us some burgers, fries, and Cokes!"

"Do I look like a fuckin' maid?!" Tig appears in the hall, hands on his hips.

You grin at him. "No, but I do have a maid's costume. Wanna try it on?" Tig gapes and you laugh at his expression. "Come on, Tig. Please? You can grab some cash from the junk drawer."

"Fine. But only because I know Hap will murder me if I don't, not because I'm picturing you in a teeny tiny maid's outfit."

"Sure, buddy. Thank you!"

Tig grumbles as he turns to march out of your house and then you worry about getting dressed. You dress in nothing but a sports bra and boy short underwear, and then with a reluctant sigh you head to the front. Everyone's in your kitchen, sitting around your table, and your brothers groan when they see how little you're wearing.

"Oh, shut up. You've seen me in clothes like this before."

"In tights, not underwear," one brother grumbles.

"Just be glad they're boy shorts and not a g-string."

All your brothers groan yet again whereas the Sons find the interaction amusing. You take a seat at the table, grimacing a little and touching at your raw wrists.

"Let me get that for you," Juice says. He leaves to, no doubt, grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. Then taking a seat next to you, he asks, "Did Hap disinfect your arm?"

"Yeah. Just spritz it again and wrap it. It'll be fine."

As soon as Juice gets to work, Happy enters the kitchen in nothing but a pair of jeans hanging off his hips.

"Jesus," one of your brother's mumbles. "Are people suddenly allergic to clothes around here?"

You grin as Jax arches an eyebrow at his friend. "You have clothes here?" Happy nods and sits, and you quickly introduce him to your brothers while Jax looks at Juice to say, "You seem to know your way around this place too."

"It's because they practically live here when they're not at the clubhouse," you say. "Hap's moved his shit in my room, and Tig and Juice have slowly taken over my guest room." Then glancing at your brothers as if you didn't just drop somewhat of a bombshell on Jax, you ask, "So what the hell happened?"

Juice taps above one of your raw wrists and you situate them so he can disinfect them.

Your eldest brother meets your gaze. "There's a new family in town- Jimenez. They're trying to make a name for themselves and thought they could intimidate us." You scoff as your other brother's chuckle. "When they didn't get the reaction they were looking for, they came up with the bright idea to target the weak link. They thought they had the perfect candidate when they found out we had a baby sister."

"Joke's on them, you're fuckin' psycho," another brother muses.

"I'm not-"

"We literally walked in on you bashing a guy's head in."

"And let's not forget the whole reason you're in Charming is because you tried to burn down your ex's house while he was still inside."

"Or that one time you wrecked your car into that other girl's car all because she broke your friend's heart."

"That cunt cheated on him. She deserved every bit of karma I dished out."

Jax snorts, shaking his head. "Christ. You and Hap are gonna be a pain in my ass."

"You know it."

Tig shows up just after Juice is finished with your wrists. Juice then dishes out the food to you, Happy, and himself, and you get up to grab drinks from the fridge. As you settle back down, Jax and your brothers watch in surprise at how the three of you go to town on your provided meals.

"So, what exactly does one do as a mafia princess?" Jax wonders.

Chewing the food in your mouth, you only answer him after taking a drink of your soda. "I'm the family hacker. If they need a computer hacked into to gather information or scrub information, I get called in."

"So, in other words, you're female Juice," Tig says.

You laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Juice grins and you reach over to fist bump him.

You continue eating as Jax speaks with your brothers, listening as this small portion of the Sons of Anarchy are filled in about what business your family gets up to. When you're finished eating, you stand and start gathering up the trash to toss. While you're up, you grab yourself a glass of water and some Ibuprofen. Then after downing four pills, you head back to reclaim your seat at the table, only for Happy to gently grab you by the arm and tug you down onto his thigh.

Your brothers don't care about your new chair, but Jax, Juice, and Tig can't help but raise an eyebrow.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax wonders, gesturing between you and Happy.

As you drape an arm behind Happy's shoulders to settle more against him, you smirk. "What's the matter, Teller? Scared?"

He huffs and then stares at Happy, but the man beneath you merely says, "Gonna start drawing up a crow. Does that answer your question?"

The kitchen goes eerily quiet and then…

"Holy shit. Hap's actually gonna take a woman," Juice says in awe.

"This is a momentous occasion. We gotta throw a rager." The glint in Tig's eyes has you narrowing your own eyes at him.

"You just wanna see a girl fight. Don't you?"

"Hap's been possessive of you since you first showed up to the clubhouse, but now that you're staking a claim, the thought might have crossed my mind."

"Are you sure you wanna see that?" One of your brother muses. "YN might traumatize a few poor souls."

Tig smiles. "I look forward to it."

You roll your eyes at Tig's excitement about possibly seeing you fight and your brothers chuckle. The Sons really had no idea what they were in for when someone tested your patience.

Standing, you keep a hand on Happy's shoulder as you say, "Well as much as I love, like, and appreciate all of you, you need to go. I'm exhausted and I still need to sleep off whatever I was drugged with."

Jax grins. "Is that code for us to get the hell out so you can bang Happy's brains out?"

Snorting, you shake your head as your brothers all grimace. "No. I'm seriously exhausted. The fucking will come later after we're well rested. I have a feeling I'm gonna need loads of energy for Hap."

Your brothers all make noises of disgust as they stand, and you take a moment to hug and kiss each of their cheeks on their way out. You promise to call when you're feeling better and then you're ushering the Sons out as well.

Locking up after everyone has left, you head to your room where you find Happy stripping off his jeans. He's in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs as he pulls your blanket back before sliding under and you pad over to do the same. You meet him in the middle, laying on your side as you drape one arm over his abdomen. With your head on his arm, you snuggle closer and Happy reaches for your leg to have it draped over his thigh so you're as close as can be without actually laying on top of him.

"Were you serious? About the crow?" You ask right before you drift off.

"Does that freak you out?"

"Not really. But if I get your mark, you're getting mine."

Happy huffs. "And just what is your mark?"

"My lips and name." You run your hand across his abdomen before walking your fingers down to one of the few empty patches of skin, below his belly button and right beneath where the snake's tail curls. "Right here."

"Above my dick, you mean?"

"Mhmm."

Happy grunts and then squeezes you a little tighter to him. "We'll see, princess. Now get some sleep."

[leupagus]

Guys I Might Have Three Nickels

I've been watching "Agatha Christie's Marple" for the past few days and it's pretty good! Marple adaptations all tend to have a better caliber of actors than a lot of bog-standard mystery shows (looking at you, "Madame Blanc"), and while Joan Hickson's Marple is right up there with David Suchet's Poirot and Jeremy Brett's Holmes as "literally can never be beaten, these are the best anyone's done it," both Geraldine McEwan and Julia McKenzie do a fantastic job as Miss Marple.

Then I got to "The Secret of Chimneys," Season 5 episode 2

and guys

Guys

So there's a murder of a viscount, like there is, and this detective Finch rolls up and immediately spots Miss Marple (in her NIGHTIE! standing at the window like some kind of hussy, honestly Jane) and doffs his cap to her with that little smile that makes you go, "huh."

At this point I've watched a couple dozen Miss Marple episodes where she goes through detectives like wildfire and this guy's supposed to be a "*guru*" so I'm expecting some battle of the egos or something and like, Stephen Dillane is great! But bleh, I might have to skip this one.

Then my dude asks Miss Marple to SHOW HIM THE BODY, with a pleased little smile at her as she goes "uhhhhhhhh but my knitting?" (He even does that thing where you use someone's honorific and wait for them to give you their name, and that's when I was like "ohhh this bitch knows exactly who she is.") What follows is what I can only describe as a meet-cute in the secret passageway where the viscount was shot (and in fact the body is STILL THERE) and where Miss Marple literally asks the police equivalent of "is there a Mrs Finch" and he looks at her like this:

At which point I'm like "ohhh my dude not only knows who she is, he deliberately came here without a sergeant so he could draft her," and sure enough he just starts...handing her pieces of evidence like "hey babe can you decipher this note for me thanks love you" while Miss Marple is like, "this approval and camaraderie coming from a cop... not sure if want."

Next is a series of romantic strolls through the gardens while they discuss murder, during which Finch reveals his undying love I mean his research into Miss Marple and the "dozen case files" of her previous exploits that he's collected like some deranged fanboy. Miss Marple responds to this by BLUSHING LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL and stammering about how pish tosh it's nothing really, and I couldn't find a gif of it but he's staring at her like this:

Yeah I bet u r tempted

He also makes a half-hearted attempt at negging her "amateur sleuth" status, only to then immediately assure her that he makes like, so much money being a big fancy detective and can keep her in all the yarn and garden seed she could ever desire.

There's also a late-night tryst at the compost pile right after Finch has been (mildly) poisoned and Miss Marple is like "men are so weak" as she roots through the garbage for clues.

Not how he wanted their first date to go D:

The next morning there's another murder which: bummer, but also allows the two of them to read love letters together and for Finch to give Miss Marple the following look as she explains how secret assignations among lovers can "quicken the ardor":

Miss Marple then goes onto solve the murders and btw hands over the priceless diamond that's been literally missing for two literal decades that she found in her spare time. The entire scene features Finch looking at her like this:

After the dust settles, Finch and Miss Marple have a lovely moment where he calls himself "another one of your casualties," then super casually mentions that he's probably going to have to go on assignment to use the diamond in a daring international espionage case and I can't decide if he's asking Miss Marple to go with him or simply trying to show her that he is cool and smart and would make an excellent wife, but either way the episode ends with her turning him down and Jane, we need to talk about your priorities.

Anyway I've already written 2K about the subsequent 10-year epistolary romance these two have following this episode because I make poor choices.

[sweetbans29]

Hey You PART 2 - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: It has been just over a week since you reconnected with Caitlin and she is off to the WNBA draft. The two of you get Deja Vu as you figure out what is worth fighting for.

Warnings: Freaking CC - she at this point needs to be a warning in herself, fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

Hey You - CC (Part 1)

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: THIS WAS NOT IN THE PLAN. I was in no way planning on continuing 'Hey You' but after watching the draft there is no way I can't. Thank you all for the love and support!

It has been 3 days. 3 days since you and Caitlin have reconnected and you have been talking nonstop. It came as no surprise that things went almost seamlessly back to the way things were in high school. It helped a lot that Caitlin had a break from practice and graduation for you is at the end of this week. It all came as a whirlwind and you can't believe how fast everything has moved.

You are currently back at your university in Pittsburg, finishing up the final project of your undergrad career. It has been quite the struggle considering, but you are ready to be done and look forward to what is up ahead. As you are sitting in a coffee shop your mind does what it does best and takes you back to the beginning of the week...

You are the first to wake up. Your body begins to move as your eyes remain closed, not wanting to awake from this moment. After a few minutes, you finally muster up the strength to open your eyes. When you do, you are met with the sun peaking through the hotel curtains. Caitlin is curled up at your side, head on your chest, arm around your torso, and legs intertwined with yours. You never want to leave.

Your hand comes up to her head as you begin to run your hand through her hair. It is a little tangled but you gently work your fingers through the knots. Being as gentle as you can, you move all the hair out of her face and kiss her forehead. She begins to stir and her fingers begin to play with the hem of the sleep shorts she let borrow when you decided to stay the night with her. It reminds you of the lazy day that was the turning point of your relationship.

You bring your hand down from her head to rub her back, lifting her shirt to allow your skin to feel hers. She lets out a sigh as your fingers dance along the skin of her back.

"Hey you," you say as you give the top of her head another kiss. She looks up at you with a smile and you give her a little peck. A pout decorates her face as she was hoping for something a little more but you both knew neither of you had the time.

"I never want to leave this moment," she says as she separates herself just enough to bring her hand up to caress your face. She uses her thumb to rub your cheek, then removes her hand to allow her fingers to trace your eyebrows, then cheekbones, all the way down to your lips. As her finger touches your lips, a smile begins to form. She leans down to give you a kiss, making sure it is more the measly peck you gave her just seconds ago.

You let out a sigh knowing that as much as you both don't want to move - she has a flight to get to, and you need to get back to finish and submit your final project to graduate.

When you break away from her lips you make the move to get out of bed all in one motion. Caitlin flops down and lets out a groan. You let out a little laugh and make your way to the restroom to change back into the clothing you came in.

"With all the talking that we did last night, we didn't really talk about what our plan is..." you say coming out from the restroom in your jeans and a sweatshirt you stole from Caitlin.

She looks up at you and with no hesitation says, " Well you are mine and I am yours. Regardless of what happens in the next week and a half - I know I want you. And I know that I am not making the same mistake as last time and letting you walk out of my life. You're it for me, baby."

The smile on your face is brighter than the sun. You lean down to where she is and pull her in for a kiss. You mumble 'I love you" against her lips. She responds with the same reply, then says “I know I’ll be seeing you soon because that’s my favorite sweatshirt and I want it back.”

A smile creeps its way onto your lips - “Good luck with that,” you say as you slowly back away from her. She shakes her head, her own smile dawning her face.

The two of you decide to just take things as they come for now. With graduation coming up in a couple of days and her heading to the WNBA draft in a week - there wasn't a whole lot of planning that could be done. As much as you both hate it - you know you are locked into each other and you know that this is your chance to fight for one another. So with that, you both promise to talk as much as you can to figure it out.

You are brought back to reality when you hear your phone ring. Looking down - you see Caitlin's face grace your phone screen. With a smile, you answer it.

"Hey babe, I was just thinking about you," you say as you close your laptop.

"How is your project going?" She asks, already knowing you have been struggling to get it done. The senioritis has really set in, and as much as you want to be done - you aren't quite there yet.

"I am working on it right now," you say. A little bluff won't hurt. And to be fair, you just finished the biggest chunk of it so a little study break to talk to your girl was deserved.

"Oh is that right?" She says with a little laugh. "Is that why your laptop is closed?"

You sit up straighter and start to glance around. "How did you know my laptop was closed? I just closed it, I finished the largest section."

"Lucky guess..." she begins. "Or I sent someone to keep an eye on you," she says teasingly. Now you are full-on looking around, scanning all the people who are sitting on the patio of your favorite coffee shop. You don't see anyone you recognize aside from the baristas and there is no way Caitlin would have the coffee shop spying on you.

Before you have time to ask her how she knows your study habits, you feel arms come and wrap themselves around you from behind. Your hands immediately find themselves on the arms that swallowed you and you inhale your favorite scent.

"I sent me. I am the someone here to keep an eye on you," Caitlin says as she squeezes you almost to the point of suffocation.

You are speechless as you immediately stand to give her a proper greeting. You bury yourself in her as she wraps her arms around you. When you finally break apart you invite her to sit. Even after all these years, the two of you fall back into your old habit of keeping your more intimate interactions to yourselves.

"What are you doing here? You need to be on your way to New York in what, like 3 days," you say with the biggest smile on your face.

"Funny you mention that," she says as she sits forward and places her hands on the table. Her fingers begin to fiddle with themselves signaling she was nervous.

Nervous Caitlin was one of your favorite things. It was a rare occasion to see her nervous since she was so calm on the court. So seeing her fingers fiddle and her gaze shift from your eyes down to her fingers shows how even after four years, you really do still have an effect on her.

Your foot taps her leg. You use it as a sign to show that it is just you - that she has nothing to be nervous about. She looks back up at you with a little smile and finally says what she wants.

"Come with me to New York," she says more as a demand than a question.

Your eyes just look into hers. As you are looking into her eyes - your mind begins to figure out how that would work. You graduate in two days which puts a day in between when Caitlin needs to be in New York. Would that be enough time for her, for you?

Now it is her leg tapping yours as you blink and come back to this moment.

"Don't think about it, just come with me. I want you there...I need you there," she says, slowing down as she says she needs you.

"Caitlin," you say as you take your hand in hers. It takes her by surprise but she doesn't pull away. She looks down at your hands, fingers playing with hers, and she lets out a deep breath she didn't realize was being held in. She looks back up at you and the second her eyes meet yours you say, "I'm there."

From that moment on, the next few days were nonstop. Caitlin explained the plan that her management team was scheduling everything once they hit the ground in New York - you included. And since she didn't need to be feet on the ground until Saturday, she was able to stay with you through graduation. After that - she would head back to Iowa for a day and you would close up anything you needed in Pittsburg. You would then meet her in New York. It was a lot and it was fast but she was worth it and she was so excited and nervous. You weren't going to say no to her.

You finished your final project and turned it in just before the deadline. Caitlin is absolutely no help to you as she proves to be more of a distraction than an encouragement. So much so that you would have to send her away from your apartment so you could finish what you needed to. You told her to go explore the place she spent the last four years or you would send her out to pick up food.

Then came graduation. You graduated that Thursday morning and then had a smaller graduation ceremony for your department on Thursday night. Your whole family had come out to support you. They were beyond static that Caitlin was there and had re-entered your life.

When the two of you decided to go your separate ways after high school, both your parents would always keep each other updated on what the other was doing. Even though they thought you both were doing the mature thing, they never fully understood why you two never connected after going to college. They all saw how much you loved each other. If they were to ask you about that today - you would tell them it was easier to not see each other than pretend that you could go back to being just friends.

After graduation, you headed back to your apartment with Caitlin and your family. It was a post-celebration time to hang out and doubles as a time to pack up your apartment since your plan was to move back home until you found a place in Iowa. It was great having everyone in your apartment, even though you have only been there for 2 years, it has been home for you. The help was much needed and it was quite the fun. Your family left around midnight while Caitlin stayed with you.

The two of you get ready for bed. She lets you get ready first, leaving her to walk out of the bathroom to find you sprawled out on the bed. You let out little snores as a little stream of drool ran from your mouth. Caitlin sits down on the bed and just takes in the sight of you. She grabs her phone to snap a quick pic of you - never to see the light of day and for her viewing pleasure only. Maybe even to tease you about it someday.

She put her phone down and lifted your arm to crawl into bed. She places your arm on her torso and scoots closer to you while placing an arm around you. You stir in your sleep, never waking but work your way into her side. She kisses your head and whispers 'I love you' before knocking out herself.

The next two days fly by as you move your stuff back to Iowa and get ready to meet Caitlin in New York. She mentioned on the phone that she was going to be featured on SNL and wants you there for her nerves. As much as you wanted to be there - that was one you were going to have to miss but promised her you would be watching. Caitlin begged but came out to no avail. You told her if you could you would but there was no way of changing your Sunday flight.

Saturday rolls around and you watch her on SNL. Your heart only breaks a little at the fact that you aren't there to support her in person. This confirmed your decision to follow her anywhere, you never want to miss an event she wants you at. Once the show ends you send her a text telling her how proud of her you are and how excited you are to see her tomorrow. Just one night and one flight until you are back with your girl and her life changes forever.

The first time you see Caitlin in New York is when she is walking the orange carpet. You shoot her a text, knowing she won't see it until she sits down at her table but send it knowing it would bring a smile to her face. After peeking at Caitlin one last time, you text one of her teammates Kate to meet up with her and the others. You were a little nervous as you hadn't met them before. About a minute after you sent the text, you are getting a call from Kate. You find a spot to meet up and end up getting there first.

While you wait you still have a clear view of your girl. She is getting interviewed and the interviewer asks her how many unread messages she has as of now. Caitlin looks down at her phone, going through the process of unlocking it. You see her break out into an immediate smile and you get a ping on your phone. You look down to see Caitlin loved the message you sent her when you got there which read:

[Babe: Hey You 🖤 Go be the women we looked up to as little girls, proud of you babe]

Your name is called and you look up.

"Kate!" You yell as you see her. She immediately pulls you into a hug. You introduce yourself to her and Caitlin's other teammates, hugging each of them.

"We have heard so much about you," Kate says. You laugh and make a joke about how much can really be told in a few days.

The girls just look at you and you give them a slightly confused look. "What?" You say, all hints of joking leaving your tone.

"Caitlin didn't just start talking about you this past week," Jada is the one to break their stares. Kate is the one to continue, "You have been a part of the conversation since we first met Caitlin freshman year." Kate pats your back as her words settle in.

You all walk in and find your seats. You have a clear view of where Caitlin is sitting with her family. You make a mental note to find them after all of this, they were as much your family as your family is to her.

The night begins and you know you don't need to stomach the nerves for long. She has the number one spot in the draft with the Indiana Fever having first pick. Your heart races as the commissioner comes out to start the night...

You are lying in bed with Caitlin on the night before your graduation. Her head is on your stomach as she plays with one of your hands while the other runs through her hair. You both are just enjoying the company of one another.

"Are you ready to live out our childhood dream?" You ask breaking the long-standing silence.

"I am ready knowing you will be there - cheering in the crowd," she says as she taps each of your fingers with her own.

"I will always be cheering you on, you know that," you tell her.

She sits up and turns to face you, crossing her legs. You sit up and do the same to face her. She takes your hand again and for the second time since being there with you, she looks down and fiddles with a combination of her fingers and yours.

"What if I always want you in the crowd?" She says eyes not breaking from your hands. "What if I want to take back the time we lost in college and spend it with you now?"

You let out a little laugh. Her head whips up, her eyes immediately meeting yours.

"I am serious babe, I don't want this to pan out the same way it did when graduated high school," she says slightly offended that you laughed. "I meant it when I said, you are it for me."

"Caitlin, you are about to live out your childhood dream, our childhood dream. You are ranked number one and I have absolutely no doubt the Indiana Fever will choose you. This will be the beginning of your rookie season and the whole world is cheering you on. I know you love me, and believe me when I say I love you more than anything in this world..." you say going to continue when she cuts you off.

"Come with me," she says as tears begin to form in her eyes. "Come to Indiana with me, be with me. No more hiding, no more being part, it will be you and me against the world. Don't look for jobs in Iowa, look for jobs in Indiana. We will find a place to live and we can be together. We could build a home, get a dog, and make a life for the two of us. Something we should have done 4 years ago. I don't want to do this without you. Please don't let me do this without you."

You take in every word she says, hanging to them as if they are providing you the oxygen you need to breathe. Just as you are about to respond, she continues.

"Marry me," she says. You have never seen Caitlin as serious as she is right now. "Marry me and let's build a life together."

You knew that was her Hail Mary. You two have only talked about marriage once or twice when you were in high school and how it may or may not be in the cards someday and either way you would be happy. You were the one who wanted to get married and she said she could live without it, but for you, she would happily give you your dream wedding.

"Caitlin," you say with a deep sigh. Her eyes pleading with you to see it from her side, to see how much she needs you.

"I am not going to marry you," you say and you can almost hear her heartbreak. You quickly continue. "I am not going to marry you right now. Being your wife is my dream, Caitlin. That became my new dream when basketball was no longer in the cards for me. It was in high school and it is still today but you do not need to go into this next season of life thinking about a wedding."

Her heart sinks.

"But once we move to Indiana and we get settled in," you say, as tears begin to fall down her eyes. "You will settle into your team and I will find a job that allows me to be the support you deserve. We will get a dog and we will build a home and then, then you can ask me to marry you."

She jumps up and tackles you into the bed. Her sobs of joy ringing in your ears as she squeezes the life out of you. You held her and let her feel all she needed to feel, knowing this was a lot for her. You two start talking about the life you want to build and the home you want to create. You talk all about what this new life will hold. The two of you talk too much you end up dreaming of the perfect life.

"With the first pick in the 2024 WNBA draft, the Indiana Fever select - Caitlin Clark," the commissioner announces.

You go wild for your girl as her Iowa teammates do the same. Caitlin stands to hug her family. She then makes her way up to the stage. She takes the photos with her draft pick jersey. You continue to stand and clap for her, tears of joy streaming down your face. You are so incredibly proud.

As Caitlin walks down, her eyes search for something in the crowd, more like someone. She finds you in the crowd and makes a beeline to you.

Her smile is radiant as she steps up to you. You open your arms to embrace her for a hug but she has a different idea in mind. Her hands grab your face as she brings your lips to hers.

Butterflies soar in your stomach as Caitlin kisses you with such purpose and love. It was the kind of kiss that if the two of you weren't in a public space would lead to so much more than just a kiss.

You have to pull away before you take her arm and drag her to the nearest restroom. You pull her into a hug and whisper in her ear, "Hey Indiana, here we come."

AN: Here it is! My dream is to make this a trilogy but part 3 most likely won't be making an appearance for a while as I have other thoughts I'd like to see play out. Please let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[honeyboylovee]

endearing

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x gn!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Genre: fluff, established relationship!AU, implied friends to lovers

Warnings: mentions of overthinking

A/N: Long time no see… I am finally done with my end semester exams and I can now post this one which has been in my drafts for agessss. But here you go besties, a cute and fluffy Mingyu blurb.

To say that there were a few instances where you were endeared by Mingyu would be an understatement.

Mingyu always had this effect on you. No matter what he’d be doing, you’d always find it cute and oh so lovely!

It started when you were still friends and you were at a party thrown by a mutual friend. Other than them, you only knew Mingyu at the party. And so you stayed next to him…You stayed from when you saw him at the makeshift bar sipping his drink, till the time he walked you to your car. He said it wasn’t safe to enter a parking lot alone, late at night.

That day, you drove home with a lingering feeling of guilt inside yourself. Sure, you liked Mingyu’s company but you didn’t want to hold him back from socialising just ‘cause you weren’t the best at talking to new people.

Months later, you shared this concern of yours to him. His reply was instant and short but it did wonders in calming you down.

‘That’s something I wanted to do for you, lovie. And if I’m doing it for you, it won’t hold me back.’

That’s when you realised that Mingyu always had a way with his words. And the way he would comfort you with just a few sentences was so endearing to you.

———————————————————————————

Another instance was on one of your initial dates. He suggested you both visit the street food market in your city.

While you stopped at various stalls to try the delicacies, you couldn’t resist looking at Mingyu’s face. He looked so content with all the dishes you both tried, the ones that you loved, and even the ones that you didn’t like so much.

‘Hmff! I don’t think I can eat anything more.’, he exclaimed as you relaxed on a bench. The cool breeze left behind a soothing effect on your face.

‘Oh…I thought we’d go have some ice cream at your favourite dessert store.’

‘Ofcourse we will.’, he said eagerly.

‘Didn’t you just say you won’t be eating anything else?’

‘Ice cream is always an exception, baby.’, he said immediately, winking at you.

You couldn’t argue with that.

That was when you realised…again. You found Mingyu’s habit of always being so content while eating so endearing. And maybe this is weird. But who are you kidding, you always think that he’s so adorable.

———————————————————————————

Your boyfriend had recently been to Italy with his group members. They had been ‘kidnapped’ by the staff of their own company along with Na PD. And while they were in Italy, your schedules didn’t match at all due to the different time zones.

And so you found a different way to stay in contact. Mingyu started sending voice notes summarising the occurrences of his entire day, to you. And while narrating these, he spoke oh so fast… He spoke as if he had a time limit to finish these voice messages. You’d always ask him to speak slowly in order for you to understand them.

And his response was, ‘This is how I always speak, isn’t it?…or maybe I got too excited’, he chucked and continued, ‘I’ll try to speak slowly next time, yeah? Don’t want you to miss on any of the details, lovie.’

So when you get a notification of the next voice message, you rush to listen to it. And you have two reasons to do so. One was obviously because you wanted to know about his day. And the second was to see whether he remembered his promise of speaking slowly.

After listening to the first few seconds, you were assured that he didn’t remember at all. And now you didn’t mind him speaking fast, maybe ‘cause you know that he speaks fast only when he’s very excited.

And you loved that. His habit of speaking fast when he was excited was endearing to you.

———————————————————————————

It was Sunday afternoon. You ordered burgers and fried chicken for lunch. The said lunch was done and the plates, washed. So Mingyu and you decided to watch a movie, the one that you had watched several times but never got bored of. It was your favourite ‘cause it had a happy ending(and because the male lead gave off strong Mingyu vibes). But you’d never tell him that.

You were sitting on the couch with your boyfriend’s head on your lap when you noticed that he was falling asleep.

‘Mingyu, you can go take a nap in the bedroom. That’ll be more comfortable, baby.’

‘Hmmm…no, let’s finish this movie.’

‘We know the ending, right. If you’re tired you should sleep for a while.’

‘I’m not tired, lovie. I get sleepy around you ‘cause I’m very comfortable with you.’, he said in a low voice, ‘You know, I read this somewhere that if you always feel sleepy around someone, that’s probably because you feel safe around them. And I realised that I’ve slept several times in your lap and while cuddling with you.’

You were speechless when he said that. Finally after a good minute of taking his words in, you couldn’t help but peck him on the forehead. That kiss was your response to his revelation. He simply took your hand in his and placed it on his cheek while he dozed off again.

His ability to say the most heartwarming things so casually was so endearing to you.

———————————————————————————

You were on a trip to the beach with Mingyu. Both of you loved the beach. It was your favourite place to go to even with a slight rise in the temperature. It was almost an hour later of being in the water and swimming when you caught sight of Mingyu standing at a distance where his feet would easily touch the land and he was facing the other side. You swam closer to him to see what he was up to. As you reached behind him, you could hear him chuckling softly. ‘What’re you laughing at?’, you asked him.

‘Oh baby, I’ll show you something, okay? Just do as I say.’

You nodded and looked up at him in anticipation after his instruction.

‘Okay, put your palms under the water and do a ‘thumbs up’ sign but only your thumbs should be seen outside the water.’

‘Umm, I don’t know what it’s gonna do, baby. I don’t get it.’, you said, confused.

‘Just do it for me, lovie.’

You did as he said, only keeping your thumbs out of the water. Looking at your thumbs that were now wrinkly from being in the water for too long, Mingyu burst into giggles. You watched him as he let out his cute, high-pitched giggles but you were still so confused. How was this funny to him?

Clearly he read the confused look on your face and spoke up, ‘I find silly things like this funny.’, as he continued to giggle while looking at your thumbs.

Maybe you’ll never understand the fun part in your wrinkly thumbs. And you don’t want to, as long as you can make Mingyu giggle. Even if it means doing several such silly tricks. Because Mingyu’s laughter was always so endearing.

[romanticoms]

not allowed

title inspo not allowed by tv girl

1.1k; 18+ MDNI. p in v, fingering, cheating (i don't endorse), semi public sex, light spanking & edging— please practice safe sex, and don't cheat.

a/n: hi omg after weeks of letting this crap rot in my drafts, my first fic just had to be about homewrecking, thank you to @tosuckmyweenis hehee, going from random asks to actually being convinced to post this, gave me the happy tears :")

There you were, sitting still looking pretty for the party as you served up the refreshments, opening doors as guests just piled up for your husband's party, it's only a few days until he leaves to god knows where—

"Mr Kennedy!" You opened the door to find your husband's best man, you knew him from his work and the next thing you knew he treated you way better in a few words rather than years of whatever your husband had to offer you, obviously you cleared your throat, simpering as he did. "I kept my promise," He replied coyly, nodding before you widened the door, letting him in.

You caught him getting a glimpse as you shut the door, the way your minidress wrapped around your curves, the fabric lying over your ass, god, he wanted it all to himself. He quickly let those thoughts vanish, at least temporarily. "So, where could he be?" His head scanned across the room to find your husband. "Star of the show's asleep, he had too much to drink." You shrugged. "Bummer," He let out a rather amused smile, not seeming down at the absence of your husband.

You watched as guests come and go, a few hours pass by as you watched the crowd dissipate. You waved goodbye before shutting the door, somehow Leon was still there; a bottle in hand as his attention was still on the football match on the screen. It's not customary to kick your guests out, especially if they've done so much for you— and still are.

"You're still here? I thought you'd leave like the rest," You asked, hoping he didn't get the wrong idea. "Figured you'd need some company, can't leave someone like you unaccompanied.." He teased, raising his bottle up as he watched you get one for yourself from across the room, he watched as you raised your ass up, it was your luck the bottles were sitting all the way down in your fridge. He kept his mouth shut, his gaze never turning away from your curves, how he'd imagine himself pressing his bulge over that thin fabric he'd barely call a dress.

Scratch the small talk, you two knew how this was going to end up, so why bother dragging it? He watched as you placed both of the open bottles on the table, taking a swig while he watched you. His calloused hand wrapped around your waist as he forced you to his lap, you didn't exactly protest. "Doesn't seem like you wore this for him," His hand crept up your dress, reaching out to the band of your panties, pulling it with a single finger before letting the band slap against you. "Y'gotta be a good girl, stay quiet, yeah?" He nodded alongside you, making sure you heard him right. "Don't want a whore like you to be caught fucking your husband's bestest friend, right? Or is that what you want— to be caught?" He sneered, watching you hide your face as you tried to ignore his harsh words, but fuck— you only grew more and more sensitive and vulnerable to his degrading language. "Oh? Poor baby's grown so used to being degraded," He cooed as his fingers slid under your panties, down to your slick covered cunt. His fingers curling inside your velvet walls, tongue sticking out in between his teeth as he did so. You whined, shaking your head as you tried to back down from his harsh teasing.

"Don't deny it, baby. You've been waiting for me, haven't you? Isn't that why you're wearing this?" He whispered, his free hand trailed to the hem of your dress, flipping it up before you helped him hold it. His free hand travelled up and down your waist while you rode against his fingers. He gave your waist a squeeze tight enough to bruise before briefly letting go, smacking your ass almost right after, a whine escaped your lips as you buried your face on his collar, getting a whiff of his expensive cologne that somehow got you more aroused. "I told you not to make a noise, right?" He muttered, spanking you once again. You bit your lower lip to silence your wincing. "That's more like it, such a good girl." He cooed, almost pretending as if he wasn't shaming you for indulging in what the two of you wanted. Somehow his constant switching between degrading and praising you only got you more and more aroused. "M-Mr Kennedy, 'M gonna cum.." You whined. "Not yet, baby, need you to cum on my cock." His lips curled at the corners, he let out a groan as he watched you comply, both hands undoing his pants, then sliding both his pants and briefs right off. His exposed cock only got harder the moment the cool air hit surface. He watched you grind against the tip before taking him all in, his head threw back instantly. "Fuck, y'so tight," He groaned, a hand rested around the headrest, holding a bottle while the other had a grip around your hip tight enough to bruise. "L-Leon.." You panted, watching him handle you all while nonchalantly taking swigs at his beer, his hands slid off from your hip to your clit, brushing his thumb over it while staring into you as you drifted into pure ecstacy. "C'mon, sweet girl," He coaxed as your orgasm came crashing. A thousand fireworks frolicked in your mind, your body refused to stay still as he continued to fuck you. "That's it, my sweet girl, doin' so good for me." He cooed, brushing a piece of your hair away from your face. "Fuck, I'm gonna stuff you— sweet thing." He grunted, "You'd like that, yeah? Fucked dumb by your husband's friend— now you want his kids." He broke into a small chuckle at the end of his words, watching you squirm and deny all while he overstimulated you, his thumb flicked your clit while he continued to thrust into you. "Leon! 'S too much!" You mewled, your nails clawed through either side of his broad shoulders. "Oh, fuck, sugar— y'milking me dry over here." A hard chuckle came at the end of his words. You could feel the hot sticky jizz spurt inside you, as you squirted all around his cock. The feeling died out the second his cock slipped back out, spraying a few more strings all around your stomach.

You were a crying mess, tears ridden halfway as Leon's thumb brushed them off alongside a few strands of your hair off your face. "Oh- shh. Wouldn't wanna wake your husband up to see you like this, huh?" He dragged your face to his shoulder by a hand on the back of your head, you wept nearly incessantly before he pressed a kiss on your forehead. "There, there. Let's get you cleaned up," His voice merely a low timbre as he brushed the back of your head with his thumb upon running his fingers through your hair.